


Number One Dad

by Tamuril2



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 11:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril2/pseuds/Tamuril2
Summary: AU of 'Rascals'. Picard's been deaged, but Starfleet can't find a way to undo it. Riker becomes his legal guardian, and Captain of the Enterprise. Picard must deal with, not only, having the mind of an adult, but the emotional temperament of a child. Adopted from ColtKit on Fanfiction. Not Slash. Spanking Fic. No like, no read. On Hiatus





	1. Order's From Above

When the orders from Starfleet Command come through, Will's actually sitting in the Captain's Waiting Room.

It's private, the captain's room, which is something Will needs. Every crew member's looking to him for what to do next. Where should they go? Are they still going forward with their two-year mission? What should they do with their newest addition of children? Do they treat them as adults still, or normal pre-teens?

What do we do, sir?

Tell us.

Will runs a hand through his hair for what seems like the thousandths time. It's all a bit much, this leaning of everyone on him. He's used to the quick decisions of away missions, not the steady thrum of day-to-day life demands. The sound of bubbling water from the fish tank helps calm his nerves however– probably why Picard had it installed in the first place. Will's going over some of the daily reports, thankful Picard has such an organized system, when his door chimes.

"Come," he says, frowning at Geordi's remark about new warp coils being needed in the next few months. Hadn't they just gotten new ones a few weeks ago? At Starbase 57?

"There's a message from Starfleet Command, sir" a soft, warm voice tells him as the door slides open.

He glances up at his communication's officer. The door hisses close. "Private or common channels?"

The woman's Bajoran features are smoothed, which can only mean a bad thing. Ensign Jiwuhl Chueyrasi only ever hides her emotions when she's really worried – strategic tactic leftover, he's sure, from the Cardassian Occupation of her home world.

Plus, she came personally to replay the message, instead of opting to give it over the coms. His gut says it's going to be bad news.

She adjusts to a parade attention, feet spread apart, hands behind her back. "Priority One Message, sir."

His gut's right, then. "Put it through here."

"Yessir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

She nods as she leaves.

His computer turns on a few seconds later, and he focuses all he's got on the older man on the screen. He sits straighter. "Admiral Wayler."

"Captain."

The title sends a ripple of fear down Will's spine. "Acting Captain, actually, sir."

"Not anymore." The bald man sighs. "We've cancelled all tests. As of now, Captain Picard is relieved of duty. You are Captain of the _Enterprise_."

It's a bit of a surprise – it shouldn't be, but it is. Last month, there was a transporter malfunction and four crew members got an unexpected chance to relive their teenage years. One of the affected is Captain Picard, Star Fleet's 'golden boy'. Will had thought – hoped – they'd spend more time, more resources, trying to get Picard back, as well as the others.

"It's only been a month, sir, why give up?" he presses.

Wayler's eyes narrow. "It's been deemed too risky an attempt. 70% of all the simulations ended in death, or serious physical conditions that couldn't be repaired."

70%.

That's a high number. High enough to certainly make Starfleet Command think twice.

"And Mr. Crusher's _input_ didn't help those numbers?"

"Not even a little."

Will resists the urge to groan. Dr. Crusher will not be pleased to know her son experimented on himself for nothing. The walloping Westley received from his mother for aging himself to eleven, as well as the Gold Award from the Fleet, is something the young man will probably not forget anytime soon.

"And Picard, sir?"

"The Vulcan ship, Arev (desert wind), will rendezvous with you in one week to pick him up." Wayler leans forward. "No one wanted this, Riker, but…Congratulations on your new command."

"Thank you, sir," is what automatically comes out his mouth, even though what's going through his mind is something less polite and more panicked. He's not ready for captaincy yet. A few years from now, maybe…but _now_? He feels as if he's barely keeping his head afloat.

However, instead of voicing all this, Will settles on the only thing he can change. "Sir, with all due respect, I thought I was the legal guardian of Picard."

"That was on a temporary basis, Captain."

"He seemed very adamant not to go back to his brother, sir." Will folds his hands on the desk. "I doubt he's changed his mind."

"Again, that was all based on a temporary arrangement."

"Is there some reason Starfleet Command wants him earthbound?" Will tries not to sound suspicious, but is pretty sure he fails spectacularly.

Wayler's eyes narrow again. "Are you implying something, _Captain_?"

"No, sir, of course not." Will swallows his urge to shout. "With your permission, sir, I'd like to discuss it with Picard. If he still wishes to stay aboard, I'd like to request a re-hearing for guardianship."

Wayler's lips twitch. "His brother thought you might."

Robert Picard. Will's hands clench without him meaning to. It's a well-known fact the two Picard men get along about as well as Vulcans and Romulans – that is to say, poorly, at best. Will wonders what trouble the elder brother has thrown at Jean-Luc this time. Perhaps some hitherto unheard-of sub clause about family rights over children, or maybe a promise cashed in from some Admiral.

"He told me to tell you," Wayler says, "that he'll allow Picard to stay on the Enterprise on one condition."

Will restrains his relief. "And that is?"

"He wants a test period of two months, with weekly calls, so he can check on his brother."

A trickle of mirth runs through Will. So, the elder brother is feeling protective again, is he? It's actually nice to hear. If Robert had just washed his hands of Jean-Luc, Will might've had to make an emergency trip to earth to pound some sense into the man. But, it's also good news that Robert is willing to let Jean-Luc stay on-board the Enterprise.

This ship means everything to Picard.

Everything.

It might be that Jean-Luc decides, later, to return home to earth, but Will would rather it be on Jean-Luc's term, not because he was forced to do so. Nothing ever came from trying to force the Captain…no, Jean-Luc's not captain anymore, is he? _Will's_ the captain now.

And won't _that_ take some time getting used to?

"Thank you, sir," Will says. "I'll brief him tomorrow on the situation."

"Very well, Captain. And, again, congratulations."

The screen goes black before Will can answer. He releases the tight hold he's kept in himself and slides back in the chair. What a day. How is he going to break this to them all?

Guinan won't care – she seems to be reveling in her newfound youth.

Ro…Ro is doing better. Especially since she and Keiko left for earth a few days ago – or so Captain Emily says. O'Brien couldn't handle the oddity and stress of having a twelve-year-old wife. Keiko said she felt it best if she went back to her parents too.

No, Will has to be honest with himself, it's Picard that has him worried.

Jean-Luc won't like this loss of control. He never does. Jean-Luc is a man – child, now – who keeps a tight lid on his emotions, his actions, his everything. But this time, he's twelve and the law states he _has to_ give that control over to someone else, until he's sixteen.

Will only hopes Jean-Luc trusts him enough to let him help.


	2. Teen Troubles

Jean-Luc knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop on Riker. He knows it. He does! It doesn’t matter though; his feet draw him nearer to his bedroom doorway. Riker is making a log, and Jean-Luc desperately wants to know the things Riker is keeping from him – the adult situations that, for some reason, everyone thinks him too young to understand now.

The low tenor of Riker’s voice rumbles in the main area of their shared quarters. “…My father somehow found out about my new command, and invited himself to the party. I can't really blame him. He seemed eager to meet his new _grandson_.”

Jean-Luc fights the grimace that tries to rise on his lips. He fails once the memory of that first meeting comes to him.

 

0/0/0/0

 

_A hand falls heavily on Jean-Luc’s shoulder. He jumps, despite himself, his eyes widening at the overfamiliar gesture. Who would…? He glances up. An older human man is smiling down at him, but to Jean-Luc the smile is somehow stiff. The hand, also, hasn’t left his shoulder, which is starting to unnerve Jean-Luc._

_“Sir?” he asks, hoping it’ll be enough to get the man talking. Give him some clue as to why he’s here, instead of with some other adult._

_The man’s grip lightens. “You must be Jean-Luc.”_

_“Yes, sir.” Jean-Luc struggles to keep the frown off his face._

_It won’t do to give away such a thing while this man is still an unknown entity. The fact the he knows who Jean-Luc is, while Jean-Luc can’t say the same…although…that nose and posture is familiar in some way. Jean-Luc racks his brain. Where has he seen this man before? Has he? Or is he a relative of someone Jean-Luc knows well?_

_“Quite the shindig,” the man says, still holding him in place._

_Jean-Luc turns fully to the man, succeeding in getting the hand to release him. “It is.”_

_“Does it bother you? Knowing this party is also a celebration of your predicament?” The man continues._

_Jean-Luc stiffens, anger rushing through him. “Starfleet command has officers working on a solution to my…predicament. Even so, should Commander Riker wish it, I will endorse his permanent promotion to another ship. He’s more than earned it.”_

_The man laughs, loud and harsh. “You’re quite loyal to him, aren’t you?”_

_Will suddenly appears at Jean-Luc’s side. “Dad, I didn’t know you were coming.”_

_Jean-Luc can see the resemblance now. No wonder the man looked familiar. Kyle Riker looks a spitting image of an older Will._

_Kyle smiles patronizingly at Will. “And miss out on your captaincy? I’ve waited years for this day, I wouldn’t miss it. Besides, I wanted to get to know my grandson.”_

_Jean-Luc flushes._

_Grandson?_

_The nerve of this man is outstanding._

_Will and he are colleagues, not father and son. To presume such intimacy is not only forward, but rude. Jean-Luc can see why Will might not get along with Kyle. While it may be true that Will is something of a…lady’s man, Will knows when to be a diplomat. And a good one, at that!_

_“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Will?” Kyle asks, tilting his head to the side like some kind of Klingon bird of prey._

_Will’s eyes become harder. “I would’ve thought you had already done so, with how familiarly you were interacting.”_

_Kyle’s own eyes congeal to granite stone. “Of course. I’m pleased to finally have a son with ambition.”_

_Jean-Luc has to bit his tongue to stop the retort that almost bursts out._

 

0/0/0/0

 

Jean-Luc knows for a fact Kyle only took to him so easily because of his famous past deeds. He wonders if that possessiveness will stay, once Kyle sees Jean-Luc can no longer do any of those great things now? And will this draw an even deeper wedge between Riker and his father? Jean-Luc doesn’t want to be the pawn Kyle uses against his only son, the piece he waves around to show Riker, as Kyle puts it, what a ‘true man is like’.

Riker’s voice brings Jean-Luc back out of his dark musings.

“My guess would be, the Federation believes Wesley's formula for isolating and removing specific makers during transport will give them some kind of chance at immortality. Personally, I don't see how turning yourself into a kid could be such a better option then dying. Puberty was bad enough the first time around. And now, I get to enjoy it all over again with Jean-Luc.”

“That’s not funny, Number One!” Jean-Luc can’t help but shout, his child’s side taking over for a moment. He regrets it at once. He’s outed himself. His lips press together tight as a grin spreads across Riker’s tired face.

“Jean-Luc, you know better than to interrupt a captain's log.” Riker’s thick eyebrows curl down into a frown, but then a bigger grin flashes. “But don't worry, it seems I've captured your comment for prosperity. Computer, end log.”

Jean-Luc’s cheeks flush, and he whirls about to hide in his room. Of all the childish, irresponsible things! He needn’t have spoken out. Riker has all the right in the world to be disgruntled at having to babysit his former captain. And, the heavens know, Jean-Luc isn’t looking forward to going through his gangly, teenage years again.

Jean-Luc can hear Riker speaking again to his log, but he ignores his childlike instinct to snoop.

Instead, he sits on his bed and pulls out one of his novels...or a digital copy of it, at least. All his _real_ books are in storage back on Terra Prime, on account of the weight limit. A teenage boy isn’t allowed nearly the amount a captain is. Riker has, however, used the weight Picard's book collection to buy a large supply of games instead – action figures, puzzles, etc. He insists Jean-Luc play with them, which Jean-Luc sometimes does…when no one is looking.

Still, he has digital copies of all his books on a data pad, as well as many new files Riker has given him. It’s not the same as a real book. The feel of turning the pages, smelling the dust, can’t be replicated by a thin pad. Jean-Luc sighs, putting down his pad. It’s obvious he isn’t in the mood to read just yet.

So many things swirl around his head all the time now.

Going back to school isn't exactly what he’d expected; given he has to sit in a colorful room with the alphabet printed on the wall, alongside zoo animals. It _should_ embarrass him to be there. He isn’t, embarrassed that is, but Jean-Luc _is_ bored, and lonely. All he really does is sit there at his computer during 'class time'. True, he gets to interact with the other students during their explorations into the arts (painting, music, what have you), 'story time', and lunch.

Jean Luc’s not popular, so to speak, at school, but he _is_ known.

Known as the 'Captain', that is, which means he has yet to make any real friends. The other children maintain their hero worship of his adult self, and keep themselves at a distance. Truth be told, Jean-Luc doesn't mind this _very_ much. While it does isolate him, it also helps Jean-Luc avoid having to…fake enthusiasm for all their tiny games. The only children he really interacts with are Wesley and Guinan, who are more than thrilled with the situation – or, rather, they’re trying to make the best of it.

“Jean-Luc.” Riker leans into the Jean-Luc’s room “I need to go do my shift, but I promise we'll play in the Holodeck afterwards.”

“You shouldn't make promises like that, Number One,” Jean Luc finds himself lecturing. “The life of a captain is too unpredictable to promise anything to a child.”

Riker snorts. “I'll keep that in mind. How about this? I'll try my best to make it to the Holodeck. I found a children's program I think you might like, based on a 20th century videogame.”

Jean-Luc stifles a groan. “If it is anything like Tomb Raider, I shall have to respectfully pass.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Riker laughs. “You'll like it. Until then, why don't you walk around the ship. You shouldn't stay in here all day. Maybe, Wesley's working on something fun you can help him with?”

“I was hoping to catch up on my reading,” Jean-Luc holds up his novel pad.

“You've been reading for a month. I'm pretty sure you're caught up. You need to go out, enjoy being a kid.”

This time, Jean-Luc does let out a small sigh. Riker seems to always be trying to get him to do childish things; like play with toys, interact with the other children, etc. It’s…nice that he cares, but Jean-Luc really can’t be bothered to color yet another picture or sing yet another cheery song about frogs.

“Number One, I really don't think –” he tries.

“Jean-Luc, up!” Riker’s blue eyes harden. “Out. Walk. Now.”

Jean-Luc studies him for a moment, and then sighs. The older man isn't going to let this go. He’s in one of his ‘moods’, again, about Jean-Luc acting his age.

Setting his pad down, Jean Luc stands and walks out of his room, before following his guardian out of their quarters

“What am I supposed to do?” he asks.

“Go to the petting zoo, the community center, the playground.” Riker raises an eyebrow. “We have many of areas set up all over the ship.”

Jean Luc slumps, but does as he’s told. He _is_ trying. He is! It’s just…he isn't interested in doing any of these things. He feels silly, as if he’s making a fool out of himself that way. The other children stare at him whenever he tries to pet the animals or swing. Counselor Troi tells him they will get used to it the more he interacts with them, but...

“Computer,” Jean Luc presses the control screen on the wall. “Where is Guinan?”

“Guinan is in ‘The Playground’,” the computer answers in that cheerful, female voice.

Jean-Luc winces. He’d rather not go there. “Where is Wesley Crusher?”

“Wesley Crusher is in ‘The Playground’,”

Jean Luc sighs. Well, that’s it, isn’t it? His fate is set.

When he gets to ‘The Playground’, Jean-Luc pauses. Wesley and Guinan are laughing as they play on the swings. Some of the older teenagers are 'hanging out' by the monkey bars, talking. Some of them are hanging upside-down from said bars. Most are just lounging around.

There’s really nothing for older children to do on this ship, Jean Luc realizes with a start. Well, expect play in the Holodeck.

Jean-Luc grimaces. That’s a perfect way to create a generation of Holo addicts. Jean-Luc jolts as a thought comes. What they need is a sports area to play European football, or basketball or…or…hoverboard! The Holodecks are too small for a large number of children to be in at once, in order to play a game. They’d keep bumping into the wall. The force fields and hologram projectors wouldn’t be able to compensate.

What they really need is a holosuite! Something big enough to actually hold a small sports area. Of course, something like that can't just be converted. It would have to be a part of the original ship's design. There are other areas to play sports on the Enterprise, Jean-Luc knows, but none of them are built for more than four people.

Jean-Luc glances around. There were currently a dozen teenagers sitting around doing nothing in the playground.

“Jean-Luc.” Wesley jumps off his swing and runs over, Guinan hot on his heels... only she’s skipping.

Jean-Luc’s still getting used to Westley speaking with him in such an informal manner. They’re equals now. A strange concept, considering the boy had been his protégé. But, Beverly has scolded her son on numerous occasions about calling Jean-Luc 'Captain', since he isn't the captain anymore, therefore Jean-Luc allows the boy to call him by his given name.  

A wave of sadness washes over him, and Jean-Luc makes sure to hide it from his face. It’s not any advancement of Wesley's ensign status that’s changed their status. No, it’s Jean-Luc's demotion. A lifetime of hard work, reduced to nothing.

“Mr. Crusher.” Jean-Luc nods. “Guinan.”

Guinan rolls her eyes. Jean-Luc ignores her.

“Wesley,” he asks. “When you were a teenager, what did you do for fun?”

“Not much.” Wesley shrugs.  “After I became an Ensign, I was allowed in Ten Forward, but, usually, I was too busy studying and working in the ship to go there.”

“I remember,” Guinan says. “You were always busy with reports and shifts. I had to slow you down sometimes, make sure you didn’t burn out.”

“What about before you became an Ensign?” Jean-Luc presses.

“I worked on my Science Projects to pass the time, or played in the Holodeck.”

Jean-Luc thinks again of all the Holo addicts they might be unintentionally creating onboard this ship. “You did nothing else?”

“They don't really have anything for teenagers to do onboard, sir. I even had to pick up my own holo novels at a Starbase.” Wesley squirms, but Jean-Luc waves him to continue. He needs to hear this. Westley sighs. “Truthfully, sir, everything is either focused on little kids, or the adults here. They only have two art studios, one focused on finger painting and the other on... nudes.”

Jean-Luc nods. “I see.”

“The Playground is for little kids.”

That much is very obvious.

“They don't even allow hover boards on the ship, much less have a skate park for them,” Wesley continues. His eyes glaze a little in memory. “They had a really cool set up for hover boards on one of the stations my mom was posted at, but they don't put things like that on Starships. They don't even have a juice bar you can hang out at or a teen club.”

“Teen club?” Jean-Luc thinks on that. _This_ might be something Riker _can_ install. They could clear out a storage area, refit it into a juice bar for older children to enjoy. Maybe even put in a dancing area and a little area of 'hover boards'

“Come,” Jean-Luc says. “We need to write out a proposal.”

“Proposal?” Wesley blinks. “For what?”


	3. A Hiccup In The Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Warning! - Spanking in this chapter.

Will strides down the ship's hallways with an easy bounce in his step. This morning's been good. Nothing too exciting, nothing wild, just a normal shift. Will chuckles to himself. A month ago, he'd have been making off-handed about being bored. He'd have wanted something new to happen to break the monotony. Will shakes his head.

He'd had no idea what work a captain did for his ship.

Not really.

In fact, looking back, Will's ashamed to admit he basically thought captains sat in their waiting rooms and drank Earl Grey tea, while reading occasional reports.

Will shakes his head. How wrong he'd been. A captain is never off duty, is never 'bored'. There's so many tiny, little things a captain oversees or checks on in one day, Will's surprised Picard didn't go off the deep end years ago. Will knows he feels like doing just that sometimes these days. And he's only been the 'official' captain for less than two days now.

And what's worse, it's as if that title of 'official' made everyone think to triple their complaints/suggestions/reports to him.

Will groans as he stretches his aching back.

He rounds the corner and finds the gangly figure of Jean-Luc waiting for him at Holodeck 3. A smile shoots across the boy's face as he catches sight of Will. It seems the boy's had a good morning then. Will feels a grin growing in return, his day a bit brighter now.

"Number One, I had an idea for the teenagers of this ship," Jean-Luc informs him, his thin shoulders straightening in something like determination.

"Oh?"

"My proposal," Jean-Luc hands over a pad.

Will winces internally. They don't have much time before he's due back on the bridge again. This is his lunch break. He only has an hour. Knowing Jean-Luc/Picard as he does, this proposal is long and very detailed. "How about I read it tonight? I need to get back on duty in an hour."

Jean-Luc deflates, his eyes dulling. "Can't you skim it? I kept it as brief as possible."

Will raises an eyebrow at the childish pout. "I said I would read it, just not right now."

"It wouldn't take that much time."

Will feels the first stirrings of irritation begin. "I said, not right now. Besides, weren't you supposed to be playing this morning? This proposal doesn't count in my books."

"There's nothing to do," Jean-Luc grumbles. "I talked to some of the older children, and they agree, we need a rec center focused on our age group. I spent the morning gathering their ideas for it. I told them you'd look it over."

Riker runs his hand through his hair. His irritation is growing. They don't have time for this. He said he'd read it later. "What if I don't approve this?"

"There's no reason you shouldn't." Jean-Luc smiles, but to Will it looks a hair too smug.

"That's not for you to decide," Will warns him.

"Since when do you ignore my council?"

"I'm not ignoring it," Will says, almost sighing. "I said I'd consider it, but it's up to me if I go through with it or not. You can't just promise the kids a new rec center. You haven't even discussed it with me."

"Fine, don't build the center!"

The pad is snatched out of the Will's hand and thrown down the hall. It bounces a bit, before it hit the ground. Thankfully, it doesn't break.

Will's shock bursts into anger. Enough is enough! Deanna warned him about this. She said Will needed to be firm on Jean-Luc, show him that tantrums weren't accepted. Very well then. He quickly grabs Jean Luc, lifts him up, and tucks the boy under his left arm.

"Number One? I didn't mean –"

Will ignores him. They're past apologies. Will's hand smacks Jean-Luc's backside, hard.

"W-Will!?" the boy gasps.

Will smacks him again. A pained yelp follows. Will keeps the squirming and kicking boy firmly in place.

"Will! OWwww! Stop! I'm- Eeeek! Not- gasp, Not a child!" Jean-Luc shouts.

"Yes (SMACK) you (SMACK) are! (SMACK)" Will says. "An adult (SMACK) wouldn't have thrown the tantrum (SMACK) you just did!"

He continues the spanking. He can feel the boy heaving silent sobs, but he's not sure the message has gotten through yet.

"I'm sorry!" Jean-Luc wails.

Will gives two last smacks, before putting the boy on his feet. He straightens Jean-Luc up. A quick scan up and down of the boy shows that he's not hurt – oh, his backside is probably burning, but he'll live.

"Jean-Luc, I am not your subordinate anymore," Will says firmly. It's something he thought they'd already established. Evidently not, if this tantrum is anything to go by. "I'm your legal guardian, and that means you need to treat me with respect."

"Y-yes, sir."

Will almost breaks at the sobbed reply, but forges on. "If you've an idea, I'd like to hear it. I know you're clever. However, in the end, it's still my decision. If I say 'no', it means no. If I say I'll look at something later, that doesn't make it an automatic 'no' as well. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm busy right now. My break ends soon. I thought we could do something both of us would enjoy, while I had the time. I can't very well do that, not if I sit down and read your proposal. I was going to read it later, while looking over other proposals from the crew, something you have done in the past."

Jean Luc nods, his hands trying to discreetly, Will is sure, rub his stinging rear.

"Now, go bring me the report. I'll look it over when I can," Will says.

Jean-Luc slowly walks over to where he's thrown the pad. There's a pained gait to his steps, but Will knows this lesson needed to happen – no matter how much he hates doing it. He watches as Jean-Luc picks up the pad and brings it back, red faced. The boy hands it over, his eyes focused somewhere on Will's stomach. Will accepts the pad without a word.

After a few seconds, he tries again. It's not as much time as he'd have liked, but they can still have a little fun in the Holodeck. "All right. How about we check out the program?"

"C-can I just go back to my room?" Jean-Luc asks, now looking at his shoes.

Oh no, Will is not letting this fly.

"Do you really want to waste the rest of the day, sulking?" When Jean-Luc still refuses to answer, Will sighs. He taps his com badge. "Deanna, do you have time for a short session now?"

Jean-Luc head jerks up fast. "Will!"

Will silences any further arguments with a glare. He's in no mood to deal without another tantrum right now.

"Of course, Will," Deanna replies, her voice already soothing his nerves.

"We'll be right there."


	4. Failing Heart

The next thing Jean-Luc knows, he’s sitting on Deanna's couch next to Riker. A few uncomfortable squirms get out when he first sits down – his backside does not like his sitting on it _at all_ – but he clamps down on the reaction quickly. He might be in a twelve-year-old body, but he’s got more self-control than one.

Deanna glances between the two of them.

Jean-Luc knows she can sense they’re both upset.

Riker doesn’t seem inclined to start the conversation, and neither is Jean-Luc. In fact, he’d much rather not be here at all. There’s nothing to discuss. Not really. Jean-Luc, now that he’s had a chance to look back on it, acted most unbecomingly. He deserved punishment for such a display. But…he’s not sure how to feel about the way Riker went around it.

“I can sense you’re both unhappy,” Deanna says finally. “Would either of you care to tell me why?”

Jean-Luc looks at anything, but her.

This is ridiculous.

“I had to spank Jean-Luc,” Riker says.

“You did not have to!” Jean-Luc retorts before he can stop himself. He stiffens. He’s done it again. He’s responded as a child might. Why? He can see no reason he should regress. It’s as if the child’s mind is somehow trying to overtake his adult mind, and winning.

That thought scares Jean-Luc more than he’d care to admit.

“Jean-Luc,” Deanna leans forward in her chair. “I can sense you’re afraid. Are you frightened by Will?”

Jean-Luc shakes his head hard. “No.”

“Can you tell me why you were just afraid now?”

Jean-Luc clenches his hands into fists. If he doesn’t, they might see how they’re shaking. What is happening to him? Why can’t he control himself anymore? He knows better than to fly into a rage over something as silly as a proposal. He should’ve accepted Will’s promise to read it later, and gone on with their previous plans in the holodeck. Why hadn’t he? Why did he overreact?

“Jean-Luc?” Riker asks. There’s worry now tinting the man’s tone.

Hurt and frustration flip-flop inside of Jean-Luc, and he’s not even sure why.

“Jean-Luc,” Deanna tries again. “Spankings are a common punishment used by many parental figures. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

He nods, the feeling of embarrassment welling up, made only worse by his knowledge that the empathic Councilor is picking up on all of it. Fear chokes him. He can’t hide in here. All his deepest feelings are laid out for her to ‘see’. Jean-Luc’s never felt so vulnerable…no, he _has_ felt this way before.

The Borg.

He couldn’t hide anything from them either.

No! Jean-Luc shakes his head. Deanna is _nothing_ like those cretins! How could he even, for a second, think of her that way? She would never breach his confidence like they did. She would never use his feelings against him. He’s a wretch to even consider her on par with the Borg. How has he allowed himself to become so indecent, ungrateful –

“Jean-Luc,” Deanna’s gotten up sometime in his mental flagellation of himself and knelt before him. Her hand hovers over his left knee. “What’s wrong? Talk to me. I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me why you’re feeling this way.”

“It’s nothing,” he whispers.

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“It is.” He clenches his fists harder. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, Councilor.”

“Jean-Luc…”

“I’m fine,” he states firmly. “Really, Councilor, it was nothing.”

She stares at him a long time, and Jean-Luc is struck by how glad he is she’s not telepathic too. Which only causes guilt to grow, twisting his stomach in knots. At last, she sighs and goes back to her chair. Disappointment flows through her eyes, but she doesn’t press him.

“Very well.” She straightens. “So, you spanked Jean-Luc, Will. Why?”

“I wouldn’t look at a proposal he’d just given me. He threw a tantrum.”

She nods. “I see. However…”

Jean-Luc looks up as she trails off.

“Will, did you ever actually warn Jean-Luc that you believed in spanking? Or that you would implement them?” Deanna’s lips are pressed thin. “I don't recall it being in that contract I asked you two to write up going over the rules and expectations you two had for each other.”

Riker blushes a bit. “I... never thought to add it. I didn't think I would have to punish him that way... obviously, I was wrong.”

“Perhaps,” Deanna taps a finger against her chair arm. “But you can imagine the shock it was for Jean-Luc?”

Riker starts to reply, but Deanna stops him with a shake of her head.

“Think about it, Will. He suddenly got a spanking, when he had no idea that was an option. How did you feel about that, Jean-Luc?”

And there it is. The dreaded question Jean-Luc so desperately does _not_ want to answer. How did he feel? Ashamed, hurt, scared, embarrassed. He wants to be left alone.

Not to sulk, as Riker accused, but to regroup. So much has just happened between Riker and him. Their relationship has just changed to something more…permanent? Yes, permanent is the right word. A spanking is personal, something only a parent would do. Jean-Luc’s not sure he likes that. It frightens him, for some reason. And he’d like to figure out why. By himself. Not here.

“Jean-Luc?” Deanna asks. “How did that make you feel?”

“Embarrassed,” he gives, because otherwise this could go on forever.

“Are you still embarrassed?”

“No…yes…I’m not sure.”

“Do you hate Will?”

“What?” Jean-Luc looks up so fast his neck hurts. “Of course not, Councilor! Why would I…? He was justified in…punishing me.”

“So, you agree he’s allowed to spank you?”

“I…” Jean-Luc looks down again. “I suppose so.”

“That doesn’t sound very confident to me.”

He shrugs.

“What happened afterward?” she asks.

Jean-Luc opens his mouth to reply, but Riker gets there before he does.

“He started to sulk.”

“I did not,” Jean-Luc interrupts. “I…I wasn’t, Councilor. I merely wanted to think.”

“That’s not an abnormal reaction, Will,” Deanna says. “All children react differently to spankings, even if they do know they can get one. Some like to be held. They crave comfort and affection afterwards. Whereas, others need time to themselves to gather their thoughts privately. Both are perfectly normal reactions. More important, is the need to make sure the child understands that they are both forgiven and loved.”

She pauses. “Jean-Luc appears to feel neither at the moment.”

Riker looks down at Jean-Luc. His brow wrinkles as his eyebrows lower. Jean-Luc shifts, his collar feeling tight somehow. He knows Riker cares for him. The man wouldn't have taken Jean-Luc in if he didn't. But love? Obviously, Deanna’s talking about the type of love between a parent and child. Still…it’s a leap. Even if Riker _does_ say he loves him like a son, Jean-Luc can't reciprocate.

He still considers Riker as one of his closest friends, his former subordinate, not as a parent. That concept is so far off Jean-Luc’s radar it’s awkward to even contemplate.   

Deanna sighs – probably sensing how uncomfortable she’s made both of them. “Let's go back to the holodeck. Will, maybe you could explain why the holodeck visit was so important to you.”

Important? Jean-Luc blinks. Why would that be important to Riker?

“I figured it was something we could do together. Maybe help Jean-Luc realize being a kid isn't so bad.”

Oh.

That’s not something Jean-Luc had weighed in on. He didn’t think that Riker would _want_ to play with him – even if they do sometimes play game nights with Georgie, Worf, and Data. The idea both warms him, and makes him nervous. Yet, if Riker has spent so much time preparing this…Jean-Luc looks up at the (now) older man.

“I'm sorry I acted inappropriately. It wasn’t my intention.”

Riker nods. “Apology accepted.”

Jean-Luc waits, but nothing else is said. His stomach churns again. He wasn’t the only one to overblow things. Or so his child’s mind claims. Right now, Jean-Luc’s not sure if he trusts that side of him very much. It did, after all, get him a spanking.

“Will, in this situation, you were both in the wrong in some way.” Deanna leans her elbow on the arm of the chair. “I understand that you were eager to do something with Jean-Luc, but children often throw a wrench into a parent's plans for a perfect day. That doesn't mean you can't both turn it into something to enjoy.”

Riker seems to think this over.

“Now, Jean Luc,” Deanna turns back to him. “Maybe there was a little more to this proposal?”

Jean-Luc nods.

“More?” Riker asks.

“Jean-Luc, why did this suddenly occur to you today? Surely, you must have noticed the lack of things to do for older children before this.”

Jean-Luc’s conscience stabs at him. “Well yes...”

It’s just never affected him before a month ago.

“Yet you chose today to bring it up to Riker? During his first day as captain.”

Will shifts beside Jean-Luc, and almost says something. There’s a frown threatening to form on the man’s brow. Why, Jean-Luc can’t begin to guess.

“Jean-Luc?” Deanna presses.

“I didn’t…” Jean-Luc starts.

And everything screeches to a blinding halt.

_First day as captain._

First day…

He can’t breathe.

First day as…

They’ve given up.

It takes no time at all for his adult mind to realize what’s happened. He’s been dismissed, formally removed from his position. Starfleet Command wouldn’t do this if they were still working on things. That means they aren’t.

They’ve given up.

Jean-Luc’s stuck like this.

He won’t be getting his adult body back for another ten years. He won’t get his position back for another twenty, perhaps longer. He’s lost everything in one fell swoop.

“Jean-Luc!” a voice yells from a great distance.

He ignores it. He has greater problems than it. No. No, he hasn’t. He…he’s got nothing. All his hard work. Gone. He’ll have to do it over again. Fight for every medal, every advancement, every accommodation he’s ever won. And there’s no guarantee he’ll even get back to where he was before.

Everyone else will move on in their careers, except him. He’ll be stuck in this juvenile body, trying to overcome his _teenage years_ again.

“Jean-Luc!” something shakes him.

He blinks, but his vision is blurred. He tastes warm salt on his lips. He’s crying, he realizes with a start. Like the child he is, he’s _crying_. Which only makes him sob harder.

Stupid, childish emotions.

He’ll never be rid of them now.

“Jean-Luc, talk to me,” he hears Riker beg. “What’s wrong?”

“They gave up,” he sobs out.

A strong arm wraps around his back and pulls him close. He can feel Riker’s whiskers pressing against the top of his head. “Who gave up, Jean-Luc?”

“Starfleet Command.” He chokes on air. For a moment he struggles to breathe, then he coughs. “Th-they’re disbanding the research, aren’t they? Th-that’s wh-why you’re ca-captain.”

The arm around him hugs him tighter. “Yes.”

“I-It’s not f-fair!”

“No,” Riker whispers. “It’s not.”


	5. Damage Control

Will hugs Jean-Luc to him as deep sobs wrack the small boy’s frame. He tentatively rubs his shuddering back. It doesn’t seem to help. In fact, Jean-Luc cries harder, clutching tight to Will’s shirt. Desperate, Will looks towards Deanna.

He’s never done this before. What does he do? Is he doing it right? Should he have done anything at all? He acted instinctively, hugging Jean-Luc to him. He’ll never forget the shot of terror that raced through him when Jean-Luc seemed to stop breathing. He’d nearly called Sickbay.

 

0/0/0/0

 

_“Jean-Luc, why did this suddenly occur to you today?” Deanna’s maroon one-piece only accentuates the sympathy warming her features. Will thinks it makes her seem approachable – not like that awful light pink thing her mother sent last month. Deanna leans forward, and rests her elbows on her knees. “Surely, you must have noticed the lack of things to do for older children before this.”_

_Jean-Luc’s hands spasms. “Well yes...”_

_Will actually thinks about that too. The Enterprise really doesn’t have facilities for teenagers. He blinks. Why has no one ever thought of this before? Shouldn’t Captain Picard…oh…Will glances over just in time to see a guilty look flash across Jean-Luc’s face._

_“Yet you chose today to bring it up to Riker?” Deanna says. “During his first day as captain.”_

_Will’s tempted – very tempted – to tell her to lighten up on the kid. Will found out quick that Jean-Luc is sensitive to what other people think about him. The older version of him hid it well, but this pre-teen version? It’s practically telegraphed for everyone to see. The knowledge churns something sour in Will’s gut. Just what must Jean-Luc’s previous childhood have been like, to make him so self-conscious?_

_Will stifles a sigh. He realizes Deanna’s only doing her job – getting both parties to see their errors – so, with an effort, he reigns in the sudden burst of protectiveness._

_“Jean-Luc?” Deanna presses._

_“I didn’t…” Jean-Luc starts._

_And, suddenly, Jean-Luc freezes._

_And, not in the ‘he stiffens in surprise’ kind of way. No, Jean-Luc literally stops breathing, blinking, moving, or doing anything that marks him as alive._

_Will’s hand jerks towards the boy. “Deanna?”_

_“He’s in shock,” Deanna answers, her eyebrow’s coming together. Suddenly, she braces herself. “Will, he –”_

_Jean-Luc gasps…and gasps, and doesn’t stop. His whole body is spasming like a Tarcalian bullbird. He’s making horrible wheezing sounds as he curls in on himself. His eyes are blown wide open, staring at nothing. An awful whimper escapes Jean-Luc’s paling lips._

_“Jean-Luc!” Will calls, grabbing one trembling arm._

_Jean-Luc twitches, but does nothing else to acknowledge them. Instead, his breathing only gets worse, to the point where all color has drained from the boy’s face. In fact, Jean-Luc starts to list to one side. Will grabs both his arms now._

_“Jean-Luc!” Will shakes him. Scared, and knowing that Deanna will catch that, he turns to his former lover. “Deanna, what’s wrong? What’s going on!”_

_“I’m not sure,” Deanna says, her voice strained. “He’s panicking over something. Did anything else happen in the corridors?”_

_“No! Nothing!” Will snaps, and then grimaces. “Sorry. No, nothing happened. What could’ve triggered this, Deanna?”_

_“I’m not –” Deanna starts._

_Suddenly, Jean-Luc starts crying._

_Will panics himself. “That’s it, I’m calling Sickbay!”_

_“No, Will, don’t, they won’t be able to help him,” Deanna insists. “You’re his caregiver, his safety net. He trusts you more than anyone else right now. Only you will truly be able to get through to him like this.”_

_Will loosens his death-grip on Jean-Luc’s arms and swallows, dredging up every amount of courage he has. “Jean-Luc, talk to me. What’s wrong?”_

_“They gave up,” Jean-Luc cries out._

_Without a thought, Will’s arm wraps around Jean-Luc’s back, and he pulls the boy close. When Jean-Luc doesn’t fight the position, Will rests his cheek on the top of Jean-Luc’s head. “Who gave up, Jean-Luc?”_

_“Starfleet Command.” Jean-Luc chokes on seemingly nothing. For a moment, he’s struggling to breathe. Will’s chest tightens. Then, Jean-Luc coughs. “Th-they’re disbanding the research, aren’t they? Th-that’s wh-why you’re ca-captain.”_

_Will hugs him tighter, the snake in his chest tightening around his heart again. This poor kid. Sometimes, Will wishes Jean-Luc wasn’t as smart as he is. It’d spare him so much pain. “Yes.”_

_“I-It’s not f-fair!”_

_“No,” Will whispers. “It’s not.”_

 

0/0/0/0

 

Will’s never dealt with tears very well, ever.

“Deanna,” he mouths.

She waves him to continue, while she gets up and goes to the replicator. “Tea, Earl Grey, warm.”

Jean-Luc’s head is pressed against Will’s arm. His shivers are lessoning a bit, though hot tears still soak into Will’s uniform sleeve. Will couldn’t care less. Not when Jean-Luc needs support.

It’s awkward, yes.

Downright scary.

But Will’s never backed down from a challenge, and he’s not about to start now.

“Jean-Luc,” he says. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair. But…I’m sorry.”

“I-I don’t wa-want this, Wi-Will,” comes the whimpered reply.

Will tightens his hold, his heart tearing a little more at the plea. Both his arms are encircling Jean-Luc’s small body by now, pulling him closer. “I know. I know, you don’t.”

“Wh-why?”

“Why what, Jean-Luc?”

“Wh-why did th-they gi-give up? Why?!” The boy pulls back a bit. Red shot eyes implore him. “Is-Is it re-resources? I have m-money saved. I-I can – I ca-can…”

Jean-Luc collapses against him again, crying harder.

Will sighs. “It’s not funding, Jean-Luc. The simulations were all failures. 70% death rate or worse.”

The gangly body pressed at his side stiffens. “…70%?”

“Yes. It’s too great a risk, Jean-Luc.”

Jean-Luc jerks away from him completely. Will’s too surprised to stop him, and by the time he’s thought to, Jean-Luc’s already on the other side of the couch, his back ramrod stiff.

“Th-then what is to happen to-to me?” Jean-Luc asks, his hands curling into fists on his lap. “I’m n-now a-a child, permanently. I ca-can’t…I ca-can’t go back t-to Earth. I ca-can’t. Ro-Robert…he…bu-but I…”

Will leans over and curls his hand around Jean-Luc’s much smaller one. Wild, frightened eyes meet his own. He tries to convey calm and strength back.

“You don’t have to go back to Earth, Jean-Luc.”

“I-I do-don’t?”

“No.” Will gently squeezes the smaller hand in his. “Robert has agreed to let you stay on board the _Enterprise_ , if that’s what you want.”

Jean-Luc’s tight shoulders slump a little. He sniffs. “He…he agreed to that?”

“Yes. Although, he did stipulate weekly calls.” Will offers a tentative smile. “Seems he’s worried about you.”

Jean-Luc’s eyes narrow. “I see. That’s…that’s reasonable…but…”

The boy fiddles with his shirt sleeve.

Will leans down a catches Jean-Luc’s eye. “But?”

“Who will I stay with?” Jean-Luc’s shoulder’s slump. “It’s…I…”

“If you’re all right with it, I thought you might continue to stay with me.”

Jean-Luc stiffens. “With you?”

Will pushes down the hurt that surges forth at the immediate disbelief. He knows he’s built himself a rather large playboy image. He’s done so on purpose. After a childhood of complete control and iron handed command from his father, Will needed to test boundaries. The Picard of old seemed to understand this, and never took him at face value, but this younger one…Well, Will’s man enough to admit even _he_ wouldn’t pick him to look after a child.

He’s already had Beverly visit him several times with veiled threats of violence, should he neglect Jean-Luc.

 

0/0/0/0

 

_“I thought I’d have to drag you by your boots to get your annual checkup,” Beverly says, jabbing Will’s neck with her hypospray._

_“Ow!” Will jerks, and sends her a puzzled glare. “What did I do?”_

_For the life of him, he can’t think of anything. He’s not had to send any injured crew members to her. Nor is he even late for his physical. A week early, in fact. So, what…_

_“Did I do something?” he asks, preparing to jump back should she choose to wield her hypospray at him again._

_Beverly’s back is turned to him._

_He watches as her shoulders slump down._

_She turns around, her eyes hard. “You can’t just beam up whatever new girl catches your fancy on away missions, Will.”_

_Will blinks. “This is about Anyaa?”_

_“Of course.”_

_“But her uncle insisted she inspect our engines, so she could upgrade them.”_

_“And the supper after?”_

_Will’s eyebrow’s pull down. “She asked to see the crew during their off hours. Ten Forward is the best place for that.”_

_Beverly sighs, a little of fire softening in her eyes. “Will, you’re not a single man anymore. You have to start acting like that.”_

_Will mentally chews on this. After a few seconds, he gives. “How does me showing Anyaa the crew have anything to do with my marriage status?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“But you said – ”_

_“It has everything to do with Jean-Luc.” Beverly slaps her medical pad down on the table. “You have to think of him now, Will.”_

_Will struggles not to gape at her. “And my eating with Anyaa endangered that somehow?”_

_“While you were whiling away the hours with pretty, young Anyaa,” Beverly says calmly – too calmly, “Jean-Luc was forced to fend for himself for supper.”_

_“He knows how to use the replicators, Beverly, he won’t starve,” Will says. Thank goodness this is all just an overreaction. Obviously, the doctor hasn’t taken into consideration that Jean-Luc still has his adult mind. A mind that can reason when to feed himself._

_“And did you tell Jean-Luc you wouldn’t be eating with him?” Beverly asks, folding her arms across her chest._

_Will freezes with his mouth open._

_He didn’t._

_Will licks his lips. “What happened?”_

_“Nothing,” Beverly says again. She glares at him. “Except Wesley found Jean-Luc alone in your quarters, worried that you were an hour late. He refused to call you, because, and I quote, ‘he might be busy Anyaa’. Busy, Will. Busy!”_

_Will takes a step back._

_“Jean-Luc thinks you’d be willing to leave him alone, without any notice, because you’re ‘busy’. Not hurt, not in an emergency, just busy with a woman.” Beverly takes a deep breath in. “You can’t act this way, Will, not if you want to build a good relationship with Jean-Luc. He needs to know he can trust you to be a stable constant.”_

 

0/0/0/0

 

And, Beverly is more than right. So, he’s done his level best to make sure Jean-Luc knows he’s more than welcome in Will’s life.

“Yes, Jean-Luc,” Will says, and tries to keep his worries hidden. “If you want to, that is.”

“It doesn’t seem quite fair to you,” Jean-Luc says, eyes tearing up again.

“Jean-Luc,” Will hurries to reassure. “It’s not as if you’re a rowdy or belligerent. You listen well. Half the time, I barely know you’re in our quarters.”

Which, now that Will stops to think about it, might not be a good sign.

It can mean either one or two things, if not both.

First, Jean-Luc’s been hiding himself. He’s distraught about this change. But has it been more than Will’s been allowed to see? Has Jean-Luc kept to himself because he doesn’t want Will to know just how scared and hurt he really is? This is the only time Will’s ever seen Jean-Luc cry. But it can’t be the first time.

Or, in trying to make things easy for Will, has Jean-Luc been keeping to himself, trying to minimalize his presence. Will thinks about how there’s never any mess, and how Jean-Luc’s room – despite the games – doesn’t look lived in.

Will’s heart sinks.

It’s probably both then.

“Jean-Luc,” Will begins. He stops and centers himself. “Jean-Luc, I know this has been hard on you. It’s not fair. But maybe in a few years Starfleet will try again. Until then, where do you want to stay?”

There, that wasn’t half bad.

And he’s now let Jean-Luc have a choice in his future.

Jean-Luc’s watery eyes lift to meet his again. “With you.”

It’s a whisper, at best, and even Will doesn’t need Deanna to hear the fear laden in that request.

“Then you’re with me,” Will says, grinning.

Deanna hands Jean-Luc the tea cup with Earl Grey in it. She turns soft eyes on him. “Will, it’s time you went back on shift.”

Will straightens.

Has that much time already passed?

He doesn’t want to leave Jean-Luc now, not when they’ve finally gotten him somewhat calmed.

What’s Deanna doing?

“Maybe I can call up and – ”

“No, Number One,” Jean-Luc interrupts. His knuckles are bone white around the cup. He doesn’t look at Will. “You can’t make exceptions like that, especially on your first day.”

Will shoots Deanna a pleading look, but she shakes her head.

No support in that section then.

Will sighs, but then smiles as an idea comes to him. “Why don’t you use this time to get more feedback on your proposal?”

Jean-Luc frowns up at him. “My proposal?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll…you’re considering it?”

“I said I would.” Will leans closer. “Why not go out again, and get more ideas for it? I promise to look at it tomorrow night, after my reports.”

“Tomorrow night?” Jean-Luc asks, chewing on his lower lip.

Will hastens to reassure him. “To give you more time to gather data.”

Jean-Luc nods. “It would be better organized that way.”

“All right, why don’t you prepare for that, while I go back on duty?” Will stands.

Jean-Luc offers him a timid smile. “Thank you, Will.”

Will smiles at the warm feeling in his chest all the way to the bridge. 


	6. Key Parts

The concept of gathering more data for his proposal is a sound one. It makes sense to go out and get a more detailed idea of what the other teenagers want for this recreational area. This will, after all, be for them as well as Jean-Luc. Therefore, they _should_ have some input on what goes into said recreational area. With so many young minds put to one problem, they’ll be able to come up with ideas Jean-Luc might otherwise miss.

Such as a juice bar, as Mr. Wesley suggested.

No, it’s not the actual data gathering which what makes Jean-Luc nervous. It’s…Jean-Luc’s honest with himself – if only with himself, and perhaps Deanna – it’s the fact that he must admit to this shortcoming on his part. It stings his pride, to know he somehow overlooked these children. Allowed them to wallow in appalling boredom, while he did nothing to fix it until it affected _him_ directly.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_“Thank you, Counselor,” Jean-Luc says as the door closes on Riker’s exit. He sips the tea in his hands._

_The lukewarm beverage helps to calm his nerves, as it always has in the past. The warmth of the liquid seems to fill the empty cavities in his chest. He inhales the rich aroma and loosens his grip on the fragile china cup. Some might think it odd have the replicator make the cup from such outdated sources, but Jean-Luc has always found that the fragility helps remind him to control his emotions. Too much in either direction, and he could shatter the delicate balance of command, as one would a china tea cup._

_“Have you decided how to go about asking the children for their input?” Deanna asks, sitting herself next to him on the couch. She’s conscience enough to leave several arm’s length’s distance between them. He appreciates it._

_“Not as of yet,” he says, sipping more tea. He rolls it around his mouth, savoring the taste, before swallowing._

_“Jean-Luc…” Deanna pauses, seemingly at a loss as to how to voice her concerns._

_He stifles the frustration that builds suddenly in him._

_He’s never liked counseling, no matter how much he can see the fruits of doing so. To talk about his most intimate fears and insecurities, is not something that comes easy to Jean-Luc. Not since…well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Habits are habits, and Jean-Luc’s are engrained deep into him._

_“Jean-Luc, what_ did _give you the urge to start this proposal?” Deanna finally asks, folding her hands together on her lap._

_Jean-Luc looks at the drags on his tea. “I saw the lack of teenage activities, and thought to correct the discrepancy.”_

_“I see.” Deanna leans forward. “This is bothering you, Jean-Luc. More than a simple discrepancy warrants. Can you tell me why?”_

_Jean-Luc takes a deep breath. He can do this. He has to, really. As much as it hurts, to bare himself like this, the past has shown Counselor Troi to be more than trustworthy of his confidence. He lets out his breath. “I should have seen this before now.”_

_“Back when you were an adult, you mean.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I am…” Jean-Luc swallows the tears that threaten to rise when he remembers he’s no longer Captain – and won’t be for many, many years. “I_ was _captain of this ship. It was my duty to oversee the care of all crew members.”_

_“And you feel you failed in this regard?”_

_“Of course!” Jean-Luc snaps, coloring a second later at the uncalled-for retort. “I apologize, Counselor.”_

_“It’s all right.” Deanna shifts her weight, recrossing her legs. “How do you feel you failed?”_

_Jean-Luc can’t seem to vocalize his thoughts quite._

_How has he_ not _failed these children?_

_He let things slip so far that these teenagers only have the holosuite or novels to entertain themselves, unless they wish to play with the younger children._

_“Did you know there’s only two kinds of art class onboard?” he tells her._

_She blinks, but otherwise remains un ruffled by his apparent change of topic. “I do.”_

_“And you don’t think that a grave overlooking on our…on_ my _part?” Jean-Luc straightens from his hunched position._

_“Jean-Luc, you captained an entire ship. It’s more than reasonable to think certain things went unnoticed.”_

_“But, why did they?” Jean-Luc asks. “Why were the children deemed unimportant enough to ignore?”_

_“Jean-Luc,” Deanna’s tone hardens. “I know very well you never thought of the children as unimportant. You have separate protocols for many situations just for them – including the off chance of enemies boarding. I wouldn’t call that neglect.”_

_“Do you know how the teenagers on this ship entertain themselves, Counselor?”_

_He answers before she can._

_“Mostly, the holosuites.” He scowls at his tea cup, the irrational urge to throw it again the wall flaring up. He stifles it down. “It’s a statistical fact that too much exposure can create an addition.”_

_“And you fear this has already happened?”_

_“No…not as of yet.” Jean-Luc thanks the heavens for that small grace. “We…we seem to have caught it in time. The few I talked with this afternoon were very interested in an area designated for teenagers only.”_

_“Some place they can be themselves, and not have to watch the younger children,” Deanna supplies._

_“Exactly.”_

_Deanna hesitates. “Do you dislike the idea of meeting with these other teenagers, because you think they might blame you?”_

_Jean-Luc never really answers her, but he certainly agrees with her hypothesis._

_If he were a teenager, he’d blame himself._

_And now, poor Riker has to correct his grave mistake._

_If he can._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

So, yes, it pricks Jean-Luc’s pride something awful.

Richard would say it’s because Jean-Luc can’t stand to have flaws.

It’s not that.

All right, it’s a small part of that.

But the bigger half is solely because he is…no, he _used to be_ captain over this ship. It was his responsibility to watch over this ship. His duty was to see, not only to exploration and new cultures, but his crew’s comfort and wellbeing. He somehow neglected that obligation, in regard to the teenagers stationed on his ship.

And now he must own up to that fact to the very people he ignored.

The teenagers.

That, quite honestly, scares him.

And Jean-Luc _hates_ being scared, or unsure.

It’s not something he deals with well.

Hence, why he still has nightmares about the Borg.

Hence, why he’s brought Wesley along for this outing.

Jean-Luc glances over at the taller teen walking alongside him down the hallways. “I must thank you again, Mr. Crusher, for accompanying me on this endeavor.”

Wesley gives a lopsided smile. “I told you, it’s no problem. I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”

Jean-Luc barely hides his wince.

Case in point, right there.

Wesley was loitering around the Playground when Jean-Luc found him. Guinan had been summoned by Doctor Crusher for some kind of lessons, which left her son with no one to play with. Jean-Luc wonders if Wesley blames him for the lack of engagement. He wonders how many of the teenagers do, or will.

“Still,” Jean-Luc presses. “I appreciate the extra insight you give me.”

Wesley’s cheeks flush, and he looks away quickly.

As brilliant as Wesley is, the boy has a humility that endears him to all he meets.

“We’re here,” Jean-Luc says, as they draw abreast of a private quarter’s door.

Wesley presses the admittance key on the pad next to the door.

A few seconds later the door slides open to reveal a blond girl with blue eyes. She frowns at them.

“My mother’s not here at the moment,” she says stiffly. “Can I take a message?”

“No, that’s all right,” Jean-Luc replies, smiling as best he can. “We’re actually here to talk to you, Ms Carlotta.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” Jean-Luc straightens his shoulders. “Captain Riker has tasked me with gathering data on a teen recreation center.”

“A teen…” her eyes widen. “We’re getting an area for just us teens?”

The excitement building in her voice causes it to become higher pitched.

“It’s not approve, as of yet,” Jean-Luc warns her. Her grin falls, so he hurries to assure her “But the Captain wanted me to get as many teens input as I could, and put it into a proposal.”

She grins again. “Sure thing…Oh! Sorry, would you like to come in?”

Wesley grins back. “Thanks, we’d like that a lot.”

Jean-Luc would very much like _not_ to enter her quarters, but civility demands he accept as well. Or else make Wesley look bad. “Yes, thank you, Ms. Carlotta.”

“It’s Jean, actually.” The girl says as she leads them into the tiny sitting room. “No one calls me that unless they want to kiss up to my mother.”

Wesley chokes on a snort. “I know the feeling.”

Jean-Luc frowns.

He never called Wesley by his surname for such base reasons.

He always considered doing so as treating Wesley like an adult, instead of a child.

Yet another grain of failure adds itself to Jean-Luc mind.

It seems he can’t get anything right these days – and he’s finding he wasn’t getting much right when he was an adult either, for that matter.

“So,” Jean says, sitting on the couch and waving them to do so too. “What’ve you got so far?”

“The general consensus indicates that a juice bar and hoverboard skate rink would be accepted.” Jean-Luc activates his pad. “Can you think of anything else?”

“The juice bar is neat, and the hover boards sound good, but that’s just sports and eating.” She blushes. “Not that the bar and hover boards aren’t great, or anything, it’s just…well…not everyone will want to hover board or just eat and drink. Does that make sense? I’m not making sense, am I…”

“No, no,” Wesley puts in. “That makes perfect sense. What would you suggest? We want to make everyone feel welcome, if this is approved.”

“Well…maybe a small art studio?” Her whole face brightens. “Or a corner where you could play live music, like the adults do in Ten Forward. We could organize our own concerts!”

Jean-Luc enters that into his pad, noticing the Vulcan lute lying on the table to their right. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Her smile stretches across her face, almost beaming at them. “Thanks!”

Jean-Luc finds himself smiling back.

“Do you…” Jean bites her lower lip. “Do you really think the Captain will approve this?”

“He gave his word to treat it seriously,” Jean-Luc tells her.

“And we’ll be sure to word it convincingly,” Wesley adds.

Jean relaxes. “That’d be amazing, to have a teen area. Something that’s just ours, and not the little kids too.”

Jean-Luc steadfastly ignores the pang that shoots through his chest.

He might have failed her, and the others, before, but he’s working to fix that now. “Thank you for your time, Ms…Jean. We appreciate it.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re welcome. You should really talk to Gav and Cordell Ryant too. They’ve been talking about stuff like this for a while now.”

Then why didn’t they petition for it, Jean-Luc almost asks. He would’ve given such a proposal the attention it deserved. Wouldn’t he?

“We’ll make sure we do,” Jean-Luc says. “Do you have their quarter numbers?”

“Gav’s on desk 7. I think Cordell’s with his Dad on 5.”

“Thanks,” Wesley says, getting up. “We should try and catch them today then.”

“I think Gav will be in his quarters, but Cordell might be in the arboretum.” Jean shows them to the door, practically bubbling with joy over the idea of having a small concert area for she and her friends.

Jean-Luc can only hope Riker says ‘yes’ to this proposal. Otherwise, they’re in for a lot of upset and disappointed teenagers.

“So,” Wesley drawls, hands clasped behind his back as they walk. “Gav or Cordell?”

Jean-Luc steps into the turbolift. “The arboretum is closer. Deck 17.”

“Cordell it is then.”

The tone Wesley uses does not inspire confidence. Neither does his frown.

“You have some input, Mr. Crusher?”

Wesley blinks and straightens. “No, sir…I mean, no, Jean-Luc…I…Cordell’s just not my favorite person. We don’t get along very well.”

“How old is Mr. Ryant?”

“15.”

Almost of age to make his own decisions then.

“I see. And you think he will give us trouble?” Jean-Luc asks, shifting his stance to better face Wesley. The lift continues to hum as it takes them up the floors.

“Maybe,” Wesley says. “I’m not sure. He just…he likes to push people’s buttons, if you know what I mean.”

Jean-Luc does.

The lift opens. They walk out onto desk 17, and head towards area 21 alpha. Jean-Luc ruminates on the new information Wesley has given him. It doesn’t help his flagging confidence. Jean-Luc shakes his head. No matter.

He’ll face this head on, as he does all other things.

He can’t just skip on asking Mr. Ryant’s opinion. Especially not when Jean suggested the older boy to them. Chances are good the two teens are friends, and Jean will ask Mr. Ryant what ideas he gave for the proposal. Which would lead to awkwardness, if Jean-Luc and Wesley never asked him.

They find the Cordell at the far end of the arboretum, picking at some blue flowers.

No one else is around the small room.

Jean-Luc restrains the urge to remind Cordell of the rules for not touching the plants – some of which are very sensitive to the corrosive oils on human skin.

“Mr. Cordell Ryant?” he says instead, activating his pad again.

The teen straightens and Jean-Luc is suddenly very aware that not only is Cordell two feet taller than him, but much more built.

Dark, speckled eyes glance over them both. “You really did shrink yourself, Crusher.”

“Yes,” Wesley says, body taunt.

“You need something?”

“We’re gathering data on what people might want for a teen recreational area,” Jean-Luc says, before anything else can escalate. “The captain will look the proposal over and see if he can implement it.”

“Finally got his head together,” Cordell snorts and shakes his head. “About time.”

Jean-Luc’s mind somehow fritzes. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

Wesley sighs, stepping forward, and shielding Jean-Luc with half his body. “If you’re just going to be sore about it, we’ll leave.”

“Like you haven’t complained about it too, Crusher.” Cordell leans into Wesley’s personal space until their noses almost touch. “Don’t pretend to be all golden boy with me. I know you hate the Playground as much as we do. Just because you’re younger now, doesn’t change that.”

Jean-Luc can feel his insides shrivel up.

Wesley never mentioned this.

Perhaps he does blame Jean-Luc, but is only too polite to say anything to Jean-Luc’s face.

“Come off it, Cordell.” Wesley stands his ground. “It’s being looked at now. So, get over yourself and help us.”

“Us?” Cordell glances around Wesley and seems to see Jean-Luc for the first time. “Who’s this?”

Jean-Luc desperately does _not_ want to reveal his identity, especially not after hearing all that vitriol.

But he can’t run from this forever.

He grips his pad tight. “Jean-Luc Picard.”

Cordell’s eyes widen. A smirk crosses his lips, and stays there. “Huh. Guess justice does happen.”

Jean-Luc refuses to let the boy see any hurt those words bring. “Do you have any suggestions for the proposal?”

“Maybe.”

Wesley sighs. “We’re not playing Twenty Questions, Cordell. Either tell us, or we’re leaving.”

Cordell’s right hand curls into a fist. “Still kissing up, Crusher?”

“Let’s go, Jean-Luc,” Wesley says, nudging Jean-Luc towards the door.

Cordell pushes Wesley, hard.

Wesley stumbles a few feet, and whirls around. His lips twist down. Jean-Luc grabs his arm before it can go any further. “Wesley, don’t!”

Wesley glances down at him.

“Don’t, Wesley,” Jean-Luc repeats. “He’s not worth it.”

“Not worth…” Cordell steps towards them.

“I wouldn’t,” Jean-Luc warns him. “One word, and your father will know of your violence here.”

Cordell pales.

Good.

Jean-Luc thought that might do it.

“Come, Wesley,” he says, tugging on Wesley’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Wesley nods, but doesn’t take his eyes off Cordell until they are out of the arboretum. Only then does his stance loosen, and he give Jean-Luc a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that.” Wesley shakes himself. “Cordell’s a jerk.”

“He might benefit from some anger counseling sessions.”

Wesley’s step falters. “I guess. Never thought of that before.”

Jean-Luc heads toward the turbolift. “Shall we see if Gav is in his quarters?”

Wesley nods as he follows Jean-Luc into the lift. “Deck 7.”

The turbolift plummets down.

After a few seconds, Wesley sighs. “I’m sorry he got into you like that.”

“It’s an understandable response.”

Wesley frowns. “Computer halt turbolift.”

“Mr. Crusher, you can’t –”

“Captain…Jean-Luc…” Wesley takes a deep breath. “Look maybe you’re going to be an adult soon again, and this’ll be disrespectful, but…Look, not everyone blames you like Cordell just did.”

Jean-Luc finds his boots very interesting. “You needn’t lie, Mr. Crusher.”

“I’m not!” Wesley moves closer. “Jean-Luc, look at me.”

Jean-Luc glances up.

“I’m not lying.” Wesley sighs. “Are we all a little upset? Yes. But, mostly because we didn’t think of this ourselves. I mean, I’ve lived on _Enterprise_ almost all my life, and I never even thought to propose anything like this before.”

“I certainly didn’t encourage any approaches,” Jean-Luc grumbles under his breath.

Of course, with his luck, Wesley hears anyway.

“Maybe, but I know if we’d said something you would’ve looked into it.”

“You do?” Jean-Luc asks, and then kicks himself for the childish response. He doesn’t need to be coddled.

“Yes,” Wesley grins. “I know you would’ve.”

Jean-Luc finds himself giving a tentative smile. “Thank you, Mr. Crusher.”

Wesley shrugs. “Computer, continue, Deck 7.”

Jean-Luc ponders just what he’s done to engender such loyalty and friendship.

It’s something he didn’t even know he needed, until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Cordell didn't come off as too cliche. I tried hard to make him understandable. And...well...I hope to redeem him in later chapters, so perhaps that'll fix any OOC bullies in him this chapter.


	7. Gathering Clouds and Silver Outlinings

Their quarters, when Will’s finally able to get away from his duties, are filled with some kind of violin music. It’s fast, loud, and probably something from Bach or such like. It’s not as if it’s _horrible_ or anything, it’s just…okay, that’s a lie. Will hates it.

Jean-Luc might adore the violin, but all Will hears is screeching, and a headache just asking to be built.

He sighs.

This isn’t what he needed after the stress of today.

For some reason, the ship’s external sensors didn’t feel the need to warn them of a surprise asteroid.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_The ship lurches to the right suddenly._

_Will grabs hold of the console in front of him, stumbling a few feet. Mr. Worf staggers too, growling as he tries to keep his post. Will jerks around. “Mr. Merrick!”_

_“Sorry, sir!” the young Irishman yells, fingers darting across his control panel. The ship rocks again, this time shuddering as well. “Astriod. Dead ahead.”_

_What?!_

_Will races down the side and comes up behind the pilot. “View screen. Now, Ensign_ _Chueyrasi.”_

_The Bajoran woman obeys the barked command without comment._

_The blank screen in front of them blinks to life._

_A large, crumbling asteroid hurtles towards them at devastating speed. Were they out of its range, it’d be a thing of beauty to watch pass by. But this close, and on a direct intercourse for them?_

_Will swallows, fear churning in his gut. Anger follows quickly after. “Why didn’t the sensors pick this up?”_

_“I don’t know, sir.” Merrick struggles to keep the ship out of the gravitational pull of the asteroid. The ship strains against the constant tugs from the asteroid. “There wasn’t any warning. None, sir. I swear!”_

_“Relax, Lieutenant. I believe you.” Will taps his combadge. “Riker to La Forge.”_

_A few seconds pass._

_“La Forge here.”_

_“What the hell is going on down there, Lieutenant?”_

_“Ion particle build up, sir!” Comes the panicked reply. “It knocked out all the sensors, so we didn’t get any warning.”_

_“Fix it, Lieutenant.” Will almost sprawls as Merrick tries to correct their course. “We’ve got an asteroid dead ahead. I need those sensors, now!”_

_Or else they’ll be flying by eye, which is always, always a high risk, on such a large ship. Even the slightest miscalculation will have them crashing into the asteroid._

_“Yes, sir!” Geordi says._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

They’d managed to avoid it, but only by a hair’s breadth. Geordi worked his tech magic, and the sensors came to life at the last second. However, it made everyone, including himself jittery for the rest of their shift. Poor Lieutenant Merrick kept overcompensating his course path corrections. Plus, Geordi took it as a personal affront that the ship had malfunctioned.

He’s insisting that they stop at the nearest Starbase for emergency repairs.

Which means Will spent half an hour writing up a request form, and then several minutes convincing Command that, yes, it was necessary for them to pause in their mission…again. He’d even snuck in some shore leave for the crew while they’re there.

To say Command isn’t happy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Not a great start to his first official command.

So, really, all Will wants is some peace and quiet right now. That way, he can work through the reports on his desk. As an added bonus, if he gets them out of the way, he can spend more time with Jean-Luc at Starbase 43.

Is that too much to ask?

This violin music is already hurting his head.

He longs for the smooth tunes of Armstrong or Oscar Peterson.

But then, Will glances over and sees Jean-Luc lying on his stomach on the couch. He’s reading a pad, his legs swaying back and forth in time with the violins’ ups and downs.

A smile crawls up Will’s lips.

This is the most relaxed he’s seen Jean-Luc.

He’s glad the boy feels safe enough to play his own music out in the open like this.

And if that means that Will must get used to having different tastes in music than his roommate/ward?

It’s worth a few headaches, especially if it shows Jean-Luc he’s more than just a temporary guest.

The thought makes Will pause.

A lot of the time, Will plays his jazz – either himself or by recording. It helps him destress. But he’s never thought to ask if Jean-Luc has a problem with it. Does the former captain hate jazz as much as Will does most classical music? If so, why did he just not say so? Was he trying to ingratiate himself to his host? Keep things relatively the same for Will, while not accommodating for himself?

It sounds like something Jean-Luc would do.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, stepping fully into the room, the door sliding closed behind him.

Jean-Luc whirls around, sitting up with a large grin. “Will!”

Will grins in return. He’ll never get tired of these enthusiastic welcomes. It’s nice, after so many years of living alone, to have someone who really appreciates it when he’s off-shift. Someone who looks forward to seeing him again. Oh, yes, he’s had women at almost every port, but it’s not the same.

Not even close.

Jean-Luc’s seen him at some of his worst moments…of course, that was when he was an adult, but semantics…anyhow, Jean-Luc knows and still gets excited whenever Will finds time for him.

Will never thought of being a father, but if this is one of the perks, well, he’s definitely reconsidering that marriage idea.

“Computer, stop music,” Jean-Luc says, tossing his pad to the side.

Blissful silence reigns.

“How was your day?” Will asks.

“Good.” Jean-Luc strides over. “We saw the asteroid. What happened?”

Ah.

Instead of taking this how he might’ve done a few weeks ago – as a slight jab at his command skills – Will sees it for what it is. Jean-Luc still worrying about his ship and crew. Regardless that he’s twelve now, smaller, and got a lot of childish tendencies, Jean-Luc will always be the former captain of the _Enterprise_. He’ll always put others before himself. It’s what made him such a good captain.

So, Will allows the somewhat forward question.

“Sensors went down for a bit,” Will says, “but Geordi got them under control in time.”

Jean-Luc nods. “Of course. Was anyone hurt?”

Point and case, Jean-Luc asking after the crew’s wellbeing.

“Few bumps and bruises,” Will shrug one shoulder. “Dr. Crusher said nothing serious was reported. Worst was a sprained wrist.”

“Good.”

Will stifles a smile as he watches Jean-Luc nod seriously to himself and start to pace, hands behind his back, eyes trained on the carpet.

“Has Geordi located the problem?” the boy asks, pausing in his pacing and glancing up at Will.

“Some ion particles built up, shorted out the sensors.” Will toes off his boots – he despises the things with a passion. “Command agreed for us to make an emergency stop at Starbase 43.”

Jean-Luc wrinkles his nose as he glances at Will’s discarded boots, but then shakes his head. “When’s our estimated arrival?”

“Three days.” Will nudges Jean-Luc towards his room. “Enough worrying about that. I’ve got it under control. Go get the datapad for your essay. You can work on it with me in my office.”

Jean-Luc heads towards his small bedroom.

Back when they first made this arrangement, Deanna decided it would be best if Will moved into Jean-Luc’s captain quarters, and not the other way around.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_“Are you sure about this, Deanna?” Will leans against the viewport in his room. “Won’t this make Picard feel as if I’m encroaching on his territory, so to speak.”_

_“The only other alternative is for him to move into your quarters.” Deanna steps to his side. “And that brings other problems with it. The crew will see you as still looking to Picard for aide, and Jean-Luc will have yet another constant in his life taken away.”_

_Will sighs. “There’s just no winning in this, is there?”_

_“Not much, I’m afraid.” She places a gentle hand on his arm. “Will, I know this is hard for you, but it’s the right thing. It’ll give Jean-Luc guidelines to follow, and you some confidence in your new post.”_

_“Temporary post,” he corrects._

_“You see?” she says. “You’re still living in his shadow. You can’t do that, if you’re to captain this ship properly. If you asked Jean-Luc, he’d tell you the same thing.”_

_“Fine, fine, so I take over his rooms,” Will snaps._

_“Will.”_

_“Sorry…” will runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Deanna, this is just so…I don’t like it. I feel like a thief, taking over his command like this.”_

_“Do you think Jean-Luc feels this way?” she asks._

_“…no…maybe?” Will groans. “Half the time, I don’t even know what the boy’s thinking. He’s so quiet and shy.”_

_“He’s scared, Will.”_

_Will blinks at her._

_“He’s just had all the control he’s built over the years ripped away from him,” she explains slowly._

_“So, you think the best idea is to take more of that control away? Make it so he has to see me every day?” Will splutters. “Deanna, he’s not going to want me to live with him. It’ll only make him more nervous, and upset.”_

_“Maybe, at first, but it’ll also give him someone to lean on.” Deanna squeezes his arm gently. “Will, you’ve accepted guardianship over Jean-Luc. You can’t very well do that from another room.”_

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

 It took some getting used to, but Will sees what Deanna was saying.

Being together like this – a quasi-father/son relationship - has helped Will and Jean-Luc to open up to each other. Oh, they still have a long way to go, Will’s not kidding himself. Especially after this newest development, with Starfleet Command abandoning their research. But it’s been made easier by the fact they can lean on each other, if they want to, in private.

They only have to cross a few rooms to seek out help.

Will shudders.

If he didn’t live with Jean-Luc, he’d have never known – no one would’ve known – of the terrifying nightmares the poor kid has almost every night.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_The scream wrenches Will awake._

_The last few remnants of his mother’s picnic fall away from Will’s bleary mind as someone – a child – screams again. His senses snap together quickly, everything becoming sharp and crystal clear. Jean-Luc! He yanks his sheets off him, glad he decided to sleep clothed._

_“Riker to Security!”_

_“Denford here.”_

_“Security team to my quarters! Intruder alert!”_

_He races towards Jean-Luc’s room._

_Who could be attacking the boy?_

_And at this time of night!_

_How did they get in?_

_“Computer, lights forty percent!” He stumbles into the suddenly bright room._

_To find no one there._

_“NOO!!” Jean-Luc screeches. “Get away! Stop!...please…stop…I don’t…pleeeeease!”_

_Is the intruder invisible to the naked eye?_

_“Will, please! Deanna!” Jean-Luc flails him arms. The rest of his body, for some reason, remains stiff as a board. “Help me! Please, anyone!”_

_“Jean-Luc?!” Will rushes forward. He swings his arm above the sweaty boy, but doesn’t connect with anything. Great, the intruder isn’t tangible either. He grabs hold of Jean-Luc, intent on dragging the boy away._

_“No! Get away from meee!” Jean-Luc bucks and smacks Will in the face. Will winces at the sting. Jean-Luc goes limp, and whimpers. “Don’t…please, don’t…I…I don’t want to…I don’t want to be a Borg. Please…stop…”_

_Oh._

_Ohhh._

_Will sits down on the bed, still holding Jean-Luc’s sagging body. “Riker to Security. Cancel alert. Everything’s fine.”_

_“Are you sure, sir?”_

_“Yes.” He takes a breath. “Code 56 Alpha 2498.”_

_“Right, sir.”_

_There’s nothing Security can do help with this situation._

_Better to keep them away._

_It’d only embarrass Jean-Luc if more people saw him like this._

_“Jean-Luc,” Will says firmly, shaking the small body in his arms. “It’s just a dream. Wake up.”_

_Jean-Luc does no such thing._

_Instead, he continues to shiver and sobs. “St-stop…please…stop!...I don’t…I can’t…I’m so s-sor-ry…”_

_Will tries to think of anything to break through to the dreaming boy. This wasn’t covered in his command classes. For anything resulting in PTSD or mental trauma, they were advised to send their crew member to a counselor._

_Maybe he can call Deanna!_

_He’s sure she won’t mind._

_Will’s about to lay Jean-Luc down and call her, when the boy stiffens in his arms._

_Something warm and wet soaks into Will’s pants._

_Oh boy._

_Jean-Luc moans, shakes his head, and gasps._

_“W-Will?” Jean-Luc whispers, rigid._

_“Yes. I’m here.” It’s about the most clichéd thing he’s ever said, also the most understated, but what else can he say? He’s in completely new territory here. How does one go about comforting a twelve-year-old over a nightmare from when he was an adult?_

_“I…” Jean-Luc makes a small jerk to get away._

_Will lets him go, but stays seated on the bed. “Was it about the Borg?”_

_He knows it is, but maybe this’ll help Jean-Luc to talk._

_“Yes…I…” Jean-Luc sits hunched near the end of the bed. He runs a trembling hand through his sweaty hair. “I apologize, Number –”_

_“No,” Will interrupts. Wide eyes snap up to stare at him. Will forces himself to look more confident than he feels. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It was an awful thing that happened. If you didn’t have the occasional nightmare I’d be surprised.”_

_“I…” Jean-Luc flounders, and slumps. “I can’t seem to shake them.”_

_“Would going to Deanna help?”_

_“It hasn’t before.” Jean-Luc pales. “I mean…”_

_Will sighs. “I get it. I know talking about them hasn’t ever helped me.”_

_“Do you…” Jean-Luc bunches his pajama pants in his fists. “Do you ever dream of them?”_

_“Yes. Of course. They are the deadliest thing we’ve ever fought.” Will lays a tentative hand on Jean-Luc boney shoulder. Jean-Luc flinches, but doesn’t fight the grip. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”_

_“Except…” Jean-Luc blushes, and waves a hand at his wet pants._

_“An easy fix,” Will says, getting up. He goes to replicate more pajamas for them both. Some kind of special teen pullups would also help, but Will knows Jean-Luc’ll never agree to that right now. His tattered pride wouldn’t allow such humiliation. Will will have to bring it up later._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Will settles himself at his desk, pulling the top most pad towards him. He keys it on, and pauses when he sees the start of a proposal. Jean-Luc’s proposal. A small smile creeps across Will’s face. That sneaky, little…of course he’d try and get around the time constraint.

Jean-Luc saunters in. His eyes widen when he sees his datapad in Will’s hand, but he quickly makes his face blank again. “I’m nearly done with the essay,” he says instead.

Will smirks at him. “Really. With how much time this proposal had to take, I was worried you might’ve forgotten it.”

“Of course not, Will.” Jean-Luc frowns, head held high. “That would irresponsible of me.”

Will chokes on a laugh. “Of course. Well, seeing as I have it in front of me, I might as well skim your proposal.”

Jean-Luc’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t protest the tease.

Will watches him sit himself in the chair next to the desk, before reading the proposal. It’s well worded, elegant even, and has a great many good ideas for…

“A hoverboard court?!” Will yelps.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jean-Luc swallow and put down his datapad. “A designated area for hover boards is the most popular idea. A lot of the teenagers are excited about it.”

“Jean-Luc, I haven’t –”

“I told them that,” Jean-Luc interrupts. “They know you haven’t approved it yet. They’re just…cautiously optimistic.”

Sounds like they’re all more than cautiously optimistic.

“Have you thought of how we would fit something like that onboard?” Will sighs, resisting the urge to message his temples.

“The main storage deck has a number of areas that are never in use, and have never been in use,” Jean-Luc tries, leaning forward in his chair.

“Because we use those areas for evacuations and large scale medical emergencies,” Will counters.

“I’m aware of that,” Jean-Luc continues on undaunted. “In all my years as Captain, never have even half of those empty storage rooms been in use at the same time.”

Will thinks on that, and realizes Jean-Luc’s right. They haven’t ever used all those areas at one time.

Jean-Luc beams, probably reading Will’s realization on his face. “Remodeling one wouldn’t cost us any resources, and it would be a large boost to moral. It would also give the parents some reassurance; their children would be in a safe environment, heavily observed and regulated by adults.”

Will sighs again, going back to the proposal and making sure he understands everything before saying, “Jean-Luc, I understand how much you want this, but the renovations you suggest can't be done anywhere but a space port. That means we would have to dock for a very long time.”

“You already said we’re headed for Starbase 43. There’s a Starfleet port not far from there. You can list it as shore leave for the crew. It isn't uncommon to dock at a planet for a month of shore leave.” Jean-Luc leans even further forward. “Then, just have the renovations done while everyone is enjoying themselves.”

Will groans mentally.

This’ll mean he has to contact Command, _again._ He’ll have to try and convince them to accept yet _another_ deviation in their mission. _Again._ To say Command won’t be happy with him is putting it lightly. He’s not setting up a good track record with them, like this. Will has to wonder if Jean-Luc realizes this at all.

“It’s a good idea,” Will starts, and holds up a hand when Jean-Luc goes to talk. “But I have to ask to Command, first. You understand, they might not agree?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.” Jean-Luc slumps in his chair, suddenly seeming all of his twelve years. “It’s a good idea, and will help form the future generation.”

How Jean-Luc pulls off both acting twelve and yet sounding fifty, Will can’t even begin to explain. “it is a good idea, but Command might have plans for us already that we don’t know yet.”

Jean-Luc sighs. “Yes, of course.”

Will gives him a smile and shrug. “Something will come of this, Jean-Luc. Maybe not the hover court, but Command will see why the need it there, and act accordingly. It just might take longer than you hoped.”

Jean-Luc nods at this. He doesn’t look happy, but neither does he look totally upset. Will decides it’s the best he can expect of Jean-Luc from this. The boy does seem to have his heart set on this teen rec center. Will leaves Jean-Luc to his contemplations, and starts reading the first report. Some coils overheated again, so that’ll be something else to look into at Starbase 43.

He sneaks a glance over at Jean-Luc.

It really is a good idea, this teen area. He’ll have to word things just right to get permission. Maybe if they agree to a longer mission, Command will be easier to sway. Will grimaces at the thought, but can’t think of anything else that’ll assuage Command. He’ll get Deanna’s take on it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The code that Riker gives the Security (56 Alpha 2498) is something I made up. It always bugged me that Security never made a thing to make sure that whenever they were called off it wasn't because the other side was being coerced. So, I came up with this. Is it perfect? Not by a long shot, but I hope you'll forgive my little indulgence.


	8. Interlude

_** Chapter 8 – Interlude  ** _

_Jean-Luc likes the game nights Riker set up._

_Of course, in the beginning, he didn’t quite feel that way. Truth be told, he’d felt as if yet another thing was being ripped away from his control. Not only had Riker moved into his quarters – and subsequently moved Jean-Luc_ _into another bedroom – but the older man also kept his weekly game nights. It’d been a struggle not to lash out, to not give into his childish urge to scream._

_0/0/0/0/0_

_Jean-Luc tamps down on the irrational impulse to stomp his foot. This isn’t fair! But, instead of listening to that foolish voice, he squares his shoulders. “I really don’t see the necessity for this, Number One.”_

_“Jean-Luc,” Riker sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t fight me on this.”_

_“I’m_ _not fighting you. I merely want a reasonable explanation.” There, that sounds less juvenile, and more like himself. Jean-Luc stifles a smile, which he loses in a flash when he sees the hard look come into Riker’s eyes._

_“I’m not letting you confine yourself to your bedroom for the next two hours,” Riker says, his tone brooking no argument._

_So, of course, Jean-Luc does just that. “And why not? It’s worked out well last time.”_

_“It’s not healthy, segregating yourself like that,” Riker tries._

_Jean-Luc eyes burn all a sudden. “You didn’t have a problem with it when I was an adult.”_

_Riker grimaces. “Yes, but –”_

_“You don’t have to treat me as if I really am a teenager, Will.” Jean-Luc swallows down the lump growing in his throat. “I’m still the same as I was before, just…smaller.”_

_Riker kneels down on one knee, and places a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re the same, Jean-Luc, but even as an adult you interacted with these people in your leisure time. Now, though, you’re avoiding them.”_

_Jean-Luc jerks his shoulder out of Riker’s gentle grip, and moves away. He’ll not be manipulated into agreeing to join, not when so much has been changed. So, what if he’s been avoiding his former command crew? That’s his choice – his very rational, grownup choice – not Riker’s. Jean-Luc doesn’t have to see Geordi, or Worf, or any of them anymore than he has to. It’s not right of Riker to expect this of him._

_“You can’t just force me to see them,” he rasps out, tear clogging his throat and blurring his eyes. He whirls around to his small room, and makes a break for it. “It’s not fair!”_

_0/0/0/0/0_

_Not that Jean-Luc will ever, or has ever, begrudged Riker these little moments of laxity._

_God only knows that even Jean-Luc enjoys some off time, especially back when he was an adult._

_But, see, that’s where Riker and Jean-Luc differ._

_Riker is a sociable man. He’s always been that way. Jean-Luc’s never had to look far to find him in a crowd. He just scans the room or crowd for the biggest congregation of people – or women – and there Riker is. It is – was – the perfect foil for Jean-Luc stricter way of life._

_Jean-Luc, in contrast, likes his solitude. He always has, even back when he was a teenager the first time. Interacting with people for the sake of fun never held his interest. He’d important things to accomplish; Starfleet Academy to pass, his family to ignore, and later a ship to captain. He didn’t have time for making close friends. That isn’t to say he didn’t enjoy a leisurely drink with Guinan or an intriguing talk with Will ever so often. Jean-Luc just…he only…Okay, so, Jean-Luc can say, now, that he wasn’t quite right to sequester himself so much._

_He missed out in a great many advantages that came with close association – he distinctly doesn’t listen to that little voice that says he enjoys not being lonely anymore._

_Regardless of the reason, Jean-Luc keeps this to himself, and willingly joins the game nights more often._

_“Do I want to go to the Klingon Empire for my third action?” he asks, staring at the cardboard mat. Multiple green and blue cards are stacked on it. Several diseases run rampant across the galaxy. “I can wait there.”_

_“It is closer to a research station,” Geordi says, hand on his chin. The dark-skinned man grins, picks up a carrot chip from the bowl on the table. He crunches down on it. “Why not?”_

_Jean-Luc sneaks a look at Riker and Guinan. Both nod in agreement. Jean-Luc takes his purple pawn and places it over the Klingon Empire. “So, I’ll just stay here for now.”_

_“I hear it’s beautiful this time of year,” Guinan says, smiling. “Quite balmy and warm.”_

_“I know,” Riker adds in. “It’s freezing over here on the Breen home world.”_

_Jean-Luc fights against the smile that wants to grow in his lips. He’s glad Riker suggested this game for tonight. Yes, it’s a child’s game, but it also invokes comradery and strategic ideas. Everyone must work together to save the galaxy for extinction._

_“Okay, here we go,” Geordi says, leaning forward. “Let’s see what your next card is.”_

_“Perhaps it’ll be yellow?” Jean-Luc says, hopefully, as he takes a blue card with an orange and white cross on the back._

_He flips it._

_The sickly green color of an epidemic card flares up at them all._

_“Nooo!” Riker and Guinan groan, Riker much more exaggeratedly than Guinan._

“What part of ‘be yellow’, did you not understand?” Riker asks the card, picking it up and glaring at it with a laugh.

“The stakes in this game keep getting higher and higher,” Guinan observes, with a large grin.

“Almost makes you want to start naming them,” Geordi says, somehow feeling the need to also get in on the ridiculous overreaction.

Jean-Luc steadfastly ignores his growing smile.

“Hmmm,” Geordi points at the new, dark green card. “This is definitely the Auroral Plague.”

“It does look a bit rainbow colored,” Jean-Luc ventures, finally giving in to his urge to join in.

Guinan sends him a pleased smirk. “Do you think there’s a Saurian lizard close by?”

“Doubtful,” Riker sighs, still grinning. “Too bad none of us are Vulcans.”

Jean-Luc snorts as the rest of them laugh.

“You get to draw one more card,” Geordi prompts, after they’ve regained their senses and stopped laughing so hard.

Jean-Luc suspects they’re all a little punch drunk.

It is, after all, after 2300 hours.

He reaches tentatively for another blue card.

Flips it.

A bright yellow card flashes up at them.

“Yes!” he shouts, and the blushes. He needn’t be so enthusiastic about a silly card. But then, he glances around the table, and everyone else seems just as happy as he, so he allows himself a grin.

“This is good news for us,” Riker says as Jean-Luc places his yellow card down on the two others he’s collecting. He grabs a handful of vegetable chips, popping a indigo one into his mouth.

“But then we also have less good news,” Guinan reminds them, nodding to the green epidemic card pile.  

Jean-Luc turns one over. “Looks as if Draken IV is being hit again.”

“Oh man.” Geordi exaggeratedly grimaces. “That means Barradas III and Yadalla Prime are also hit.”

Jean-Luc dutifully places black cubes on all those places.

“Outbreak meter goes to three,” Riker says, moving the small, light green circle piece down a rung.

“We only have a few black cubes left,” Jean-Luc reminds everyone. “Should we focus more on these, and ignore the yellow epidemic for now?”

“Maybe,” Geordi says. “I could take a shuttle to Betazoid. Take off a few reds?”

Guinan is vibrating in her seat. “I’m saving Romulus.”

She moves her red piece to the Romulan home world and takes off the two black cubes there. Then she moves to Draken IV and removes the three black cubes there. “Should I move to the Klingon Empire with Jean-Luc next?”

“You’ll be one away from where you want to be to cure the black outbreak,” Jean-Luc says, eyeing the board.

“You mean the Auroral Plague, don’t you?” Geordi teases.

Jean-Luc smiles and shakes his head at the engineer.

“I could actually move you on my turn,” Riker suggests.

It’s just cubes on a board, but everyone always ends up caring a lot more than they should about them. Jean-Luc loves the thrill of it. He can’t captain his ship anymore – and that will always hurt – but he can imagine he is with this game.

And if he also gets a little pleasure out of interacting with some of his former command crew?

If the homemade chips and big laughs make him feel warm inside?

Well, Jean-Luc isn’t telling anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game they're playing it a Star Trekified version of Pandemic. 
> 
> Draken IV, Barradas, and Yadalla Prime are all Roman worlds (as far as Google told me). 
> 
> So, yes, I know it's short (hence the title Interlude), but I hope you still enjoyed this more relaxed chapter of Jean-Luc is playing around with some of his former crew members. 
> 
> I'm not going to be online for the rest of this week, so I if I don't reply to your review, that's why.


	9. Difficult Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Warning! - There is talk of CORPORAL PUNISHMENT in this chapter. Nothing graphic, but I thought I'd warn you all anyway.

Will knows the instant Command gets his request for more shore leave, and the Teen Rec Center.

The nightshift contacts him from the combadge on his chest. “Bridge to Captain Riker.”

“Riker, here.”

“Message from Admiral Wayler, sir.”

Will glances over at the slightly ajar door of Jean-Luc’s room. It’s been hours since the boy fell asleep, but Will would rather not have Jean-Luc stumble in on this. Who knows what kind of damage that would do. Because, Will’s fairly certain this won’t be a curtsey call. No, this is definitely a ‘dressing down, annoyed with you, if not questioning your promotion’ call. And if Jean-Luc overhears anything, he’ll shoulder the blame onto himself.

Internalize it, and make himself sick with worry.

Which is something Will can understand – Jean-Luc was like that even as an adult. However, he disagrees with it. He’ll not have Jean-Luc blame himself like that, not over something that clearly is in need of fixing.

“Sir?” Jiwuhl’s voice presses. “Should I tell them you’re unavailable?”

Will touches his combadge. “No, put it through to my room.”

He hurries over to Jean-Luc’s bedroom and quickly, but quietly, closes the door shut. It’s the best he can do on short notice. He’d much rather take this call elsewhere, but Wayler’s probably already upset – to put it lightly – so Will needs to answer now.

Will then seats himself at his desk, and turns on his terminal. He tries to make his voice as pleasant as possible. “Admiral.”

Wayler glares. “You are not setting yourself a good reputation, _Captain_.”

Will folds his hands tightly together on the desk. “I understand, sir, but –”

“I’m not sure you do,” Wayler interrupts, leaning forward. “What is Command supposed to think? Right after gaining a small extension for shore leave on Starbase 43, you ask for not only more shore leave, but also to be redirected to Planet X259K so a…Teen Recreation Center can be built.”

Will straightens. “I would hope Command would see the benefits of engendering social practice, and discipline, for our teenagers on board.”

“Need I remind you, Captain, you’re on a two-year mission.”

“Yes, sir, but we saw a discrepancy and thought to correct it, before we got too far underway.”

There, that sounds pretty good, if Will does say so himself.

Picard would be proud.

Wayler only glowers more. “And just how new is this discrepancy? Why did we not hear of it from Captain Picard?”

Will goes to reply, but never gets the chance.

“Is it because of a certain new ward you’ve acquired?” Wayler hypothesizes. “Perhaps, Command would be best served if they removed this distraction from you.”

Will feels his own gaze start to harden, along with his spine stiffening. How dare they accuse him like this. He didn’t _acquire_ Jean-Luc, nor is he being distracted by him. If anything, he’s become better for it. He’s more grounded, less cocky, and he’s finding himself starting to enjoy the day-to-day run of a starship. He…Will takes a deep breath, and holds back his initial retort.

He won’t do anyone any good, if he blows up at the first critique.

Of course, Command is worried.

They just lost their ‘golden boy’. They’re panicked. Captain Picard was the answer to a lot of people hopes, especially with this Dominion War looming on the horizon. And now, they have to settle for second best. Him.

That pricks a bit, if Will’s being honest.

He’s a good officer.

He shouldn’t need to prove himself like this.

But, then, Picard did leave some very large shoes to fill – regardless that he’s still here, only younger.

“I respectfully disagree, sir,” Will says.

“I’m sure you do.” Wayler leans back against his chair.

“Is Command saying I’m compromised?”

“Tell me why they shouldn’t.”

Will gathers his thoughts, sends a prayer up to whatever deity is listening, and forges on. “The _Enterprise_ is a Galaxy class starship, sir. It homes over thirty different species, and their families. Command put a lot into selling that. We’re one of two ships like this in the Fleet. What are people supposed to think, when they realize we somehow forgot to accommodate their teenagers?”

Wayler lips twitch up a bit. “Continue.”

“We’ve done all right, up til now, sir, but it’s becoming obvious that there’s very little these children can do onboard, that’s productive anyway.”

“Picard never deemed this important, not until it directly affected _him_.”

“That doesn’t change the facts,” Will says firmly.

“No, it doesn’t, but let’s also face these facts, Riker. Being a teenager isn’t as exciting as being a starship captain. This is just another way for Picard to shine.” Wayler raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think Command didn’t notice that little detail, when they read your proposal.”

“Respectfully, sir,” Will counters. “No one ever brought this up to Captain Picard. I checked the records. There’s nothing there. No one lodged a complaint, or made any suggestions for improving the teenagers’ dilemma. Had there been, I know Picard would’ve done something about it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Will answers, gripping his hands together tighter. “The facts support it.”

Wayler relaxes his posture a bit. “Our research supports that too.”

“Sir?” Will frowns. It sounds as if they’re doing a 360 turn from where Wayler was headed a second ago. Sometimes, he hasn’t any idea of how these Admirals think.

Wayler smirks. “Had to test you, Will. It’s a pretty big role you’ve stepped into, after all. Command was worried Picard might still be too big an influence on you.”

Will, again, stuffs down his first reaction to anger.

He doesn’t like his character being questioned, even if it makes sense. “Of course, sir.”

“Command thinks you and Jean-Luc have a point,” Wayler says. He glances down at something. “Therefore, they’re willing to compromise with you. In return for these upgrades, and extended shore leave, the _Enterprise_ will be sent to Deep Space 9.”

“Sir!” Will starts. He’d imagined a longer mission, but to be sent so close to the Dominion War? They’ve children on board. It makes no sense to build the kids better resources for play, and then to endanger them like this.

“Stand down, Captain,” Wayler snaps. “We’re sending the Enterprise as a loose border control, at best. Should that ever change, Bajor has promised to let any families that want asylum safe refuge on their home planet, until transports can be sent to evacuate them.”

That doesn’t put the kids in any less danger.

“If I may, why the sudden need for us at the border?” Will asks.

Wayler looks older, and his face turns a little grey. “The Dominion attacked the _USS Odyssey_ last week.”

A dark pit of dread grows in Will’s gut. “Survivors?”

“None.”

Will swallows. “The _Enterprise_ will, of course, be ready to serve as soon as possible. Perhaps…perhaps it would be best to leave the children and their families at Starbase 43, sir.”

“Negative. We need those officers for this mission.”

Will doesn’t like this. Not one bit. The ramifications of taking the children that close to the war isn’t pretty, but he has to trust Command has its reasons. Even if he disagrees with them.

Wayler nods. “Very good, Captain. Your renovations shouldn’t take more than a month. While you’re there, the base will also upgrade your weapons and targeting systems, as well as your shields.”

That does nothing to ease Will’s gut.

If anything, it gets worse.

Why would Command feel the need to improve the _Enterprise_ so much, for a simple border patrol, if not, because they foresee them getting into a fight?

He takes a shaky breath. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No.” Wayler signs off, and the screen goes black.

Will sits there for a long time.

How’s he supposed to justify this to crew? Most of them will not like this at all. _He_ doesn’t like it! Putting aside the abrupt nature, the many families on board will be justly worried about bringing their children so close to the War – new Teen Center, or not. Will foresees quite a few transfer requests coming onto his desk in the next week or two.

Transfers he’ll have to deny, if Wayler is anything to go by.

Will groans.

Did Command already have this plan for the _Enterprise_? Probably. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have jumped so quickly to accept his proposal.

Will sighs.

Mulling over this won’t do anything, other than give him more Counseling sessions and headaches. So, instead, he pulls up a blank page on his Terminal and dictates a request for adult volunteers for supervising this Teen Center.

“Starfleet Command has approved a Teenage Recreation Center to be built in one of the storage bays. Schematics are attached. We will be docked above planet X259K for a month. During that time, any adults willing, and able, to volunteer for supervision duty of the Center, please report to me for an interview.”

He’s too tired to think of anything else right now. It’s concise enough. He hopes. Thinks? Will sits up and reads over his paragraph. It’s got plenty of relevant data. Any other questions can be asked when he interviews the volunteers. 

“Computer, send this out ship-wide to all available civilian adults, and those with teenagers.” He finishes.

The computer chirps in compliance.

Will goes off to bed.

 

_** 0/0/0/0/0 ** _

 

**(Three Days Later)**

It doesn’t take long for his terminal to be backlogged with requests and demands for clarification, along with volunteer offerings.

“Sir, I respectfully request a transfer,” Lieutenant Hur’ai says, her orange fur bristling slightly. Her blue uniform only enhances her green, catlike eyes. She’s barely sitting on the edge of her seat.

Will eyes her growing claws – something her species does involuntarily when angry. “Denied, I’m afraid. Command wants all hands-on-deck.”

“I’ve two kits.” Hur-ai’s claws continue to grow – they’re two inches at this point. “I will not endanger them like this.”

Will stifles a sigh. “I understand your feelings on the matter, but Command is firm on this”

A low growl emanates from her clenched teeth.

Will narrows his eyes. He’ll be patient up to a point, but he can’t accept outright challenges to his command. Unintended as it probably is, Hur’ai just issued a slight defiance to his authority. He can’t let that slide. “Care to enunciate that again, Lieutenant?”

She jerks, eyes widening in seeming surprise. She glances down at her claws, retracting them fast. She seems to shrink in on herself a bit. “Apologies, sir, I…I just don’t like this.”

“None of us do,” Will allows himself to say. “But we all knew what we signed on for, when we enlisted.”

“Yessir.” Her ears flatten back.

Will softens his posture. “You’ve got a cousin, near Vulcan, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can she take your kits for a short time?” Will suggests.

Hur-ai’s slanted eyes narrow to almost nonexistence. “She has made offers before…”

“Maybe it’s time you took her up on it?”

“Yes,” Hur’ai says, ears coming back forward. She stands abruptly. “Is that all, sir?”

“Yes, dismissed.” Will glances at his datapad. “Please, send in Mr. Sakatulk on your way out.”

The door slides shut with a hiss behind Hur-ai’s flicking tail. Will rolls his shoulders around, trying to ease the tension building in them. He just manages to crack his back before the door hisses open.

A tall, reptilian humanoid glides through, long grey robes hiding any indication of gender. Will wonders if the species does that on purpose, hiding their gender. He can’t know for sure, and asking might insult them.

Sakatulk nods. “Captain.”

“Mr. Sakatulk, please, take a seat.” Will gestures to the chair opposite of his desk.

The Selay almost slithers into it.

“It says here,” Will begins. “You want to volunteer for the Teen Center.”

“Yesss,” Sakatulk replies. “I wasss a Hatchery Guardian on my planet.”

Will places his pad on the desk and sits back. “Tell me a bit about that.”

“It isss different,” Sakatulk begins, his snake-like hood flaring a bit. “Humansss retain companionship with their offspring. They keep their young close with them.”

“The Selay don’t do this?” Will asks, crossing his legs into a more comfortable position.

“No.” Sakatulk’s hood flares more. “The young are given over to a hatchery, where Guardiansss watch over them until they are old enough to choose a Clutch.”

“I take it a Clutch is a sort of Apprenticeship?” Will says, a vague memory from his background searches popping up.

“Yesss, and no.” Sakatulk’s tongue flicks out twice. “Once chosen that Clutch adoptsss the youngling.”

“Do the children ever see their parents again?”

“Of course, though most are never asss close asss you Humansss are.”

Will nods. “And you say that you were a Hatchery Guardian? Is that why you volunteered?”

“Yesss.” Sakatulk’s white teeth flash as his mouth widens into a grin. “It hasss been yearsss since I last watched over younglingsss. I would be honored if chosen for thisss task.”

“How do you feel about discipline?”

Sakatulk’s hood flattens to his head. “In general, we do believe in corporal punishment, but only asss a last resort. It isss something that shouldn’t be used asss a first recourse. Children are to be nurtured, not frightened.”

“A tough love mixed with patience formula then.”

“Indeed.”

“And if you ever found yourself using corporal punishment?”

“I would, of course, contact the parentsss or guardiansss at once.”

Will nods, picking up his pad again. “Very good. Thank you for your time, Mr. Sakatulk. We’ll contact you, should your request progress further.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Sakatulk rises smoothly, dips his head again, and leaves with the same slithering grace he’d entered.

Will scans his next appointment, and winces. Beverly Crusher. Oh, this will be an interesting visit, if her request is anything to go by. The stiffer her tone, the angrier she is. Will sighs, cracking his neck. Once more to the breach then.


	10. Injustice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Warning! - Unjust canning/spanking in this chapter.

Starbase 43 is one of the newer stations.

It’s crisp, clean, and…well…not boring!

Jean-Luc whips his head around, trying to absorb everything about him. Two young Klingon boys are wrestling on a bright red mat, grunting and snarling mock insults as they struggle to gain the upper hand.

“Dejpu’bogh Hov rur qablIj!” one of the Klingon boys’ growls at the top of his voice, as he wraps his longer arms around his opponent’s waist. – Your face looks like a collapsed star!

The other Klingon boy scrambles for a better foothold, and throws his attacker off. “Ghe’torDaq luSpet ‘oH DaqlIj’e’!” – You belong in a black hole in the underworld!

They both howl and jump at each other again with matching grins on their faces.

A prime Vulcan girl wrinkles her nose a bit at the insults. Her companion, a smirking Tellerite boy, snorts and leans over to whisper something to her. Jean-Luc’s not sure what’s said, but the Vulcan’s lips twitch suspiciously up.

To Jean-Luc’s left a wall many meters high with strategic handholds is covered with scaling boys and girls. One Romulan girl loses her grip and suddenly finds herself dangling midair from her safety harness. She laughs and swings over to grab hold of a new place on the wall. The human boy next to it helps her steady herself.

The toddlers’ room is sectioned off from the teens by a glass door and wall. Jean-Luc can hear several little toddlers’ muffled screams of delight as they’re pushed on swings or down slides. Anyone can see in perfectly, but none of the young children are getting out, and there are plenty of adults watching over the littlest ones. More than enough, so that the teenagers can play their own games, instead of monitoring the younger children.

And, the best part?

In the far-right corner, to Jean-Luc’s delight, is a hoverboard arena.

A grin spreads across Jean-Luc’s face as a warmth grows in his chest.

“Pretty cool, right?” Wesley says, nudging Jean-Luc in the ribs.

“It is impressive,” Jean-Luc concedes.

A rustle of cloth gets his attention, and he remembers the Selay babysitter Riker foisted on them. The Selay is several feet away, slanted eyes scanning the room with surprising ease. It’s unnerving though, and inconvenient. Not that he blames Riker, or Sakatulk. He understands why Sakatulk is here. It’s just…it’s not helping their social status with the other teens.

 _Everyone’s_ giving them quite a wide berth.

Wesley glances over at Sakatulk too, and grimaces. He leans, whispering. “I feel like I’ve got some kind of disease. We’re never going to make friends this way.”

Jean-Luc agrees, but understands Riker’s decision. “He’s going to be one of our chaperones, once we leave Planet X259K. It only makes sense for him to familiarize himself with guardianship.”

“Guinan’s already made herself friends.” Wesley eyes the juice bar with a bit of jealousy.

Jean-Luc follows his gaze. Guinan is seated on a tall stool, surrounded by a total of five boys and three girls, all hanging on her every word. Even the bartender is listening in. “She always did have a knack for drawing people to her.”

The older boy nods to the hoverboard area. “Want to check out the hovercourt? Maybe someone will lend us a board.”

Jean-Luc bites his lower lip. “We haven’t a permission slip.”

“Oh.” Wesley’s face falls. “Right. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a station. Forgot about those.”

Jean-Luc shrugs. “We can always watch though. Perhaps see some new tricks.”

“Sounds good.” Wesley turns to Sakatulk. “We’re going to check out the hovercourt, sir.”

Sakatulk’s bright yellow eyes fixate on them. “I ssshall be here if you have need of me.”

“Thanks!” Wesley impulsively grabs Jean-Luc’s arm and starts to drag him through the crowd. Jean-Luc stiffens at the unexpected action. He’s not liked people touching him without permission since…well, his short stint with the Cardassian Order didn’t help his Borg nightmares one bit. Wesley stops, and glances back.

“Jean-Luc?” Wesley lets go. “Everything ok?”

“Yes. Of course.” Jean-Luc hurries to reassure him. “Lead on, Mr. Crusher.”

Wesley narrows his eyes in a way that suggests he doesn’t quite believe Jean-Luc, but he shrugs and begins to walk towards the hovercourt anyway. Jean-Luc follows close behind. He is grateful for Wesley’s tact. Jean-Luc’s not at his best right now, so more things than he’d like slip out. It helps, having considerate people like Wesley around him. They cover for his mistakes, or ignore them.

“Wesley Crusher and Jean-Luc Picard, sir,” Wesley says to the supervising Vulcan adult.

The male scans them both. “Do you have permission slips?”

“No, sir.” Wesley shakes his head.

“We only wish to observe,” Jean-Luc puts in.

“Very well. Please, do so at a safe distance.”

“Yessir,” both of them reply at the same time.

The Vulcans eyebrow goes up, but he doesn’t say anything. Jean-Luc’s glad he doesn’t. He quickly shoves that thought away as he follows Wesley through the crowd of taller teenagers until they’re closer to the court.

“Hi there,” a Andorian girl at their side says. She pulls a few strands of her white hair behind her ear. “You’re new.”

Wesley grins. “And here I thought we were blending in so well.”

She snorts, leaning against her hoverboard. “Sorry, to burst your shielding, but no.”

Wesley laughs.

Jean-Luc envies their natural comradery.  

“I’m Ivrillith Zh’iqellon,” she tells them, and pulls herself up with pride.

Jean-Luc assumes, by her tone and posturing, that someone in her family is a high-ranking member the Andorian Guard. He wracks his brain quickly, but can’t come up with anyone. Wesley, it seems, hasn’t noticed anything.

“Cool! I’m Wesley Crusher. And this,” Wesley gestures to Jean-Luc, “is Jean-Luc Picard.”

Her dark eyes jerk towards Jean-Luc. “There’s a starship Captain with that name.”

“Distant relative,” Jean-Luc says before Wesley can tell her the truth. He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, like an advantage waiting to be taken, or someone to manipulate. Besides, Starfleet hasn’t given him orders on how to act, so, until further notice, Jean-Luc is going off the assumption that no one outside the _Enterprise_ is to know yet.

Wesley gives him a look, but doesn’t correct him.

Ivrillith stares at them for a second longer, before she smiles. “Okay.”

Jean-Luc doesn’t believe her one inch, and the feeling is probably mutual. He stops a sigh. Sometimes, he wishes he weren’t quite so famous.  

“So,” Wesley drawls, stepping between them so he’s closer to Ivrillith. “Who’s got the best tricks here?”

“That’d be Kul.” Ivrillith shrugs. “But it’s a Breen, so it’s pretty much expected.”

Jean-Luc finds himself nodding as he scans the boarders for the Breen. It’s not hard to find. It’s the only one wearing a face mask and body suit. Jean-Luc can’t even tell the gender, which is, of course, the point of the mask and suit. The Breen are one of the most secretive races in the galaxy.

“He is good,” Jean-Luc has to admit when the Breen does a triple twirl and black hole maneuver.

Ivrillith glances down at him, and then over at Wesley. “You any good, Wesley?”

Wesley eyes them both. “A little. I’m out of practice though.”

“Oh?”

“Been living on a starship for the last few years.”

“They don’t have facilities for a hovercourt?”

“Not yet. That’s part of why we’re here,” Wesley says. “They’re upgrading the recreation centers.”

And the weapons.

Something Jean-Luc is not happy about.

He’d tried hard to get Riker to recant his request to Command, when he found out the price.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_“Deep Space Nine!” Jean-Luc gapes. He slaps the datapad down on the desk. “Number One, this is –”_

_“A direct order, and you know it,” Riker interrupts._

_“Ask them to reconsider.” Jean-Luc scrambles mentally for an out. “There are children on board. We can’t go into a warzone with children!”_

_The older man sighs and rubs his beard. “We can, and will, do just that.”_

_“It’s an unnecessary risk, Number One!”_

_“The only fact they aren’t phrasing it as an order is_ because _of my request. If I withdraw it, we’ll still be headed to DS9, but without any facilities for the teenagers.”_

_Jean-Luc slumps._

_It’s true._

_But he can’t, for the life of him, think why Command is so willing to put these children in harm’s way. It’s obvious that the Dominion are going to launch a full-on attack soon._

_“What’s changed?” he asks. It’s the only thing that explains this maneuver._

_Riker’s face falls, making him look ten years older. “They attacked the USS Odyssey last week. No survivors.”_

_Jean-Luc’s throat tightens. He knew Captain Fen well. Whenever they’d the chance, he and she would go riding in the holodeck together. Nothing romantic ever came of it, but she was a dear friend and confident. “I see. That does explain things.”_

_“I’m sorry, Jean-Luc,” Riker says, laying a hand on Jean-Luc’s arm. Jean-Luc’s not sure if it’s because the man remembers Fen and he are…_ were _…friends, or just because it’s a devastating loss of life._

_Jean-Luc withdraws his arm. “It’s a risk we all take, Number One.”_

_“Jean-Luc…”_

_“I assume the parents are denied transfers.”_

_“Yes. Though the children can stay at Starbase 43 until a transport ship can take them to relatives.”_

_Jean-Luc nods, his stomach in knots. “I’d rather stay. Here, I can do some good in research. On Earth, I do no one any good.”_

_Riker taps his shoulder._

_Jean-Luc glances up at him._

_Riker doesn’t look happy. More resigned. “You can stay, if that’s what you want, Jean-Luc. But the instant it seems we might go into battle, I want you ready for Bajor.”_

_“Of course,” Jean-Luc agrees. The knots in his stomach loosen. He’s not being discarded. He can still be useful._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Obviously, that hadn’t worked, so Jean-Luc’s resigned himself to accepting that some children will be coming to DS9 with them.

He’s glad Will’s thought to make the new Teen Center fortified.

“I’m going to be an engineer,” Ivrillith says, and Jean-Luc realizes he’s zoned out half her conversation with Wesley.

He shakes his head. He can’t afford to be so distracted.

“I think I’d like to be one too,” Wesley confides.

Jean-Luc thought he wanted a command position, but he’s finding out that he knows very little of his new companion. The warmth in his chest starts to rapidly cool.

“Want to see something?” Ivrillith asks.

Wesley’s eyes light up. “Of course.”

Jean-Luc’s starting to suspect they both might be flirting with each other.

“This way,” Ivrillith says, jerking her thumb in the direction of a far corner. She weaves her way through the crowd, careful to avoid detection from any adults. Wesley sneaks over with her. Jean-Luc trails close after them. He’s got a bad feeling about this.

Why? He’s not sure, but his instincts are rarely wrong.

Ivrillith leads them to a conduit screen. She taps a few keys and the screen comes off. Wires are now exposed. Half of them are plugged in, the other half are loose.

Jean-Luc studies them. His eyes widen. “This conduit is for the fire suppressant system.”

“Yes.” She grins. “I’m improving it.”

He glances back and sees they’re quite hidden from view, because of the antique arcade center. “Without permission.”

She glares, pulling herself up. “I can do it, pink skin.”

“Hey!” Wesley gets between them. “There’s no need for that. He’s only worried about you.”

“Worried he might get in trouble, you mean.” She flips her hair back. “Andorians don’t fear, if they know what they’re doing is right.”

Frustration bursts through Jean-Luc. “If you were in the right, you wouldn’t be hiding it.”

She shoves Wesley away, and gets in Jean-Luc face. “You going to tell on me, pink skin?”

Her breath smells of old Klingon gagh.

He gages. “I should. You could easily get hurt, or hurt someone else, doing this.”

She pushes him. “I know what I’m doing!”

“Stop! Get away from him!” Wesley half shouts, trying to get between them again. She pushes him away like he weighs no more than a small pillow. Wesley bangs his elbow against the wall and grunts, clutching it.

“You keep silent, Picard,” she hisses.

“Or what?” Jean-Luc retorts, stepping away.

She grabs his shirt and yanks him close. “You tell, and I’ll make you sorry.”

Jean-Luc grits his teeth. “Let me go.”

She snorts and shoves him in the chest, hard. He stumbles back, trips over his feet, and ends up sprawled on the floor. His hip bumps against the corner of one of the arcade machines. He yelps and closes his eyes against the flash of bright pain.

“You all right, there?” a voice asks from above.

He glances up, and gulps. One of the human minders is standing over him. He’s smiling down at him.

“Well?” the man asks, grinning. “Care to explain why you’re on the floor?”

Jean-Luc glances back, but Wesley and Ivrillith are mysteriously not there. His heart plummets, even as he pastes a grin on. “Just tripped, sir.”

The man raises an eyebrow and bends down to help him up. “Tripped, eh? And why are you…”

Jean-Luc watches as the man’s eyes widen, and then harden. “Why is that panel open?”

Jean-Luc swallows thickly. “I –”

“You’ve been moving the wires!” The man drags them both closer. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I –”

The grip on his arm tightens. “I realize you’re a guest here, but lying is not tolerated.”

“I’m not–”

“Just because you used to be a starship captain doesn’t exempt you from the rules.”

Jean-Luc can feel the color draining from his face. This is bad. Very bad. This man knows who he is, and is using it against him. “Sir, I didn’t touch the conduit.”

“Then who did?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ivrillith standing near the hovercourt. Wesley is nowhere in sight. Jean-Luc can feel tears rising. He’s on his own.

“I don’t know, sir, but it wasn’t me,” he finally says.

“Then why were you back here?”

“I…” he can’t come up with anything.

“I see.” The man pulls him along towards a back room. Jean-Luc struggles a little, and then thinks better of it. Perhaps, the man is going to call Riker. Jean-Luc can explain things better to him. Riker will, at least, listen to him before passing on judgement.

But the man doesn’t call Riker when they get in the room.

Instead, he pulls out a cane.

Jean-Luc’s eyes widen, and he does begin to fight to get away. “Let me go! I haven’t done anything!”

The man forces Jean-Luc to bend over the desk. “Are you going to tell me the truth?”

“I did tell you the truth,” Jean-Luc pleads, trying to get up, but finding the man the stronger of them. He’s not getting up unless this man lets him. Fear rushes through him. “Please, sir, I didn’t touch that conduit.”

“Then who did?”

Jean-Luc presses his lips together.

**Whack!**

Jean-Luc blinks, and then sucks in a pained hiss as fire spreads across his legs. That hurt more than Riker’s entire spanking combined. He wriggles, and tries to get up again. To the same effect as before. He’s not going anywhere.

**Whack!**

Fresh tears well up.

**Whack! Whack!**

“We’ll keep this up until you decide to tell the truth,” the man tells him, punctuating his words with three more sharp **whacks** of the cane.

Jean-Luc bites his lower lip and whimpers. He won’t cry out. He won’t! He’s been tortured by the Cardassians, the Borg, and he didn’t break. He won’t do it for something as simple as a –

**WHACK!**

A pained cry escapes him. “P-please, s-sir! S-stop! I ha-haven’t –”

**Whack!**

Hot tears run down his cheeks and he resists the urge to put his hand back to protect his behind. It won’t stop the man, if anything it might enrage him more. And, given his luck, his hand will get hit too. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and muffles another scream as the cane hits him again.

“You will ssstop thisss instant,” a new voice demands.

Jean-Luc stiffens and then winces. His entire backside feels like it’s on fire…no, like it _is_ fire! He dares a brave glance back slowly. Sakatulk has the man’s arm in his grip, a black look in his snakelike eyes.

“Sir, you can’t –”

“You will cease this course of action at once,” Sakatulk continues, as if the man weren’t just talking. “Thisss boy isss under my charge. Asss such, I will determine his guilt.”

The man stares for several long minutes at Sakatulk, but then relaxes and lets go of Jean-Luc. “Very well, sir. You should know though, he was meddling with conduit A.”

Sakatulk releases the man’s arm, and carefully – slowly – helps Jean-Luc stand up straight.

Jean-Luc sucks in a breath when his uniform rubs against his legs and backside.

“Isss thisss true, Jean-Luc?” Sakatulk asks, bending lower so they’re eye-to-eye. He keeps one hand on Jean-Luc’s shoulder.

Jean-Luc shakes his head and maintains eye contact. “N-no, sir.”

“Then who wasss it?”

Jean-Luc focuses on his boots.

“Jean-Luc?” Sakatulk presses, though his hand never tightens on Jean-Luc’s shoulder.

Even still, Jean-Luc flinches back, his eyes flickering over to the cane still in the other man’s hand. “I ca…can’t say, sir.”

“I sssee,” Sakatulk hisses and straightens. “It ssseems obvious, Lieutenant, that the boy is merely covering for hisss compainionsss.”

“Sir, I can’t allow that.” The man straightens his spine more. “It’s not just against the rules for any of the children to meddle with the conduits, it’s dangerous.”

“I agree, Lieutenant,” Sakatulk says. “However…”

Jean-Luc glances up at the Selay, but the alien’s gaze is wholly on the man.

“However, _that_ ,” Sakatulk indicates the cane, “is not the way to go about it. If you’d waited a few minutes, you would have had your answer.”

The man raises an eyebrow.

Sakatulk indicates the doorway.

Just outside it, are Wesley and Ivrillith. The latter’s eyes are huge, her face a paler blue. Wesley looks angry, though whether at Ivrillith or Jean-Luc is hard to tell. Ivrillith licks her lips and steps inside.

“I was playing with the conduit, sir.”

“Were you,” the lieutenant says, though it sounds more like an ironic question. “I shall speak to your father about this, young miss.”

“Yessir.”

Jean-Luc feels his chest tighten as hurt wells up. She gets to have her parent called before action is taken. But he? He is marched into this room and canned without Riker even being commed. He blinks back more tears.

“May…may I be excused, sir?” he asks Sakatulk, proud of how his voice barely wavers. He’ll not breakdown in front of everyone. Not after everything else. He’s still got some pride left in him.

Sakatulk finally releases his shoulder. His reptilian eyes soften. “I ssshall escort you to your quarters.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jean-Luc says, even though walking with Sakatulk is the last thing he wants.

“You should expect a call from Captain Riker in the next hour or two, Lieutenant,” Sakatulk says next.

The Selay gently leads Jean-Luc out of the room, and towards the hallway. Lots of the children eye them as they leave. Jean-Luc keeps his head held high. He’ll not show weakness, regardless that they all heard him cry out. Wesley hurries alongside them, but Jean-Luc refuses to look at him.

Thankfully, the hallways are mostly empty. They make it to Jean-Luc and Riker’s shared quarters without incident. It helps a bit, but really does nothing to assuage the choking feeling rising up in Jean-Luc. He battles his sobs the entire way there, keeping his back straight and his eyes forward.

At the door, Jean-Luc turns to Sakatulk. “Thank you, sir.”

Sakatulk starts to reach out, but stops himself with an unsure look. “I ssshall contact Captain Riker immediately.”

Jean-Luc nods.

Sakatulk hesitates again. “You will be all right?”

“Of course, sir.”

Sakatulk glances over at Wesley. The older boy gives the Selay a lost look in return. Jean-Luc clenches his fists. He enters the access code, and the door slides open.

“Again, thank you, sir,” he says, and then rudely shuts the door in their faces. He quickly punches in the emergency override codes, locking everyone out but a captain or higher. He might regret that later, but right now, he can’t stand the sight of either of them. How dare they judge him! He’s a right to be angry.

Suddenly his vision blurs. A sob bursts out of him, and then another, and another, another! He can’t stop them. Barely makes it over to his bedroom before collapsing on it and sobbing into the pillow. His backside stings, but not as much as his…his pride? Heart? He’s really not sure, it just hurts, and won’t go away.

A hand on his upper back startles him – it’s definitely _not_ fear!

Jean-Luc lurches away, almost falling off the bed’s edge.

The hand saves him.

Jean-Luc hurriedly scrubs away his tears. Riker’s worried face comes into focus.

“Jean-Luc?” Riker says. “Sakatulk just called me. Are you all right?”

“Of c-course, N-number one.” Jean-Luc wipes another tear way.

“Jean-Luc…”

“I said I’m fine!” Jean-Luc snaps, and the hunches inward. “I apologize, Will. I’m not…I’m not at my best right now.”

Riker shifts position, so he’s closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“What about to Deanna?”

“No,” Jean-Luc says firmer. “I’d…I’d like to rest, Will. I’m tired.”

Riker sighs. For a long moment, he just studies Jean-Luc. Then, he nods. “All right. But, I’m here, if you want.”

Jean-Luc nods, watching as Riker gets up and leaves the room. He lies back down on his side, hissing when his uniform again rubs against his abused skin. Hugging his pillow to him, more tears fall, but this time silently. Too late, Jean-Luc hears the door slide close. He glances over his back, but Riker’s not there. Hurt and relief mix together.

He falls asleep that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the fortified Teen Center on Enterprise, and the general outline for Jean-Luc's unjust punishment go to ColtKit. I was really struggling with some writer's block, and they helped a ton. Thanks, Coltkit!


	11. Volcanic Anger

Will stares hard at the black screen in front of him. The room feels hot, stuffy almost, to him. It’s not though, hot that is. All Starfleet quarters are regulated to be at an optimum temperature for whatever species is assigned to them. Thus, Will knows the imagined heat is just an illusion to his state of mind.

He can feel his anger bubbling inside him.

Will forces himself to take another deep breath, to reign in the anger that wants to burst out. He holds the air for an allotted twelve seconds, before letting it out slowly. He imagines grains of sand falling off him into a calm water below. It’s a training exercise Deanna taught him. Once the grains hit the water, he’s to let the liquid absorb them, thereby absorbing his anger as well.

It usually works.

This time though, it really does nothing.

He still feels like some volcano about to erupt.

Which is why he takes yet another breath in.

He can’t allow himself to just react.

Not matter how much his instincts and heart are screaming at him to do just that.

Will’s fists tighten, and his nails start biting into his palm.

How _dare_ that man cane Jean-Luc!

When Sakatulk had commed him, Will’s first thought had been ‘Jean-Luc’s good behavior streak is at an end’. There’s only so long a preteen boy can keep out of trouble, after all. But no, it was much worse than that.

 

0/0/0/0/0

_Will’s sitting with Captain Bri’an. The older woman has a rich laugh that’s infecting. It lights up the Trill’s blue eyes, and makes them sparkle with mischief. Which is in complete opposition to the way she presents herself – with her blond hair done up in a tight bun and her uniform pressed straight within an inch of its life, you’d think she were Vulcan._

_Will finds his own mouth curving up in response to her mirth. “I guess commanding a station is different.”_

_“Different?” She snorts, swirling the green liquid in her glass and taking a sip. “That’s putting it lightly. Captain, commanding a station is one of the most challenging posts Command can give. There’s no new planets every week to distract the crew.”_

_“You have much trouble with discontent?”_

_“Only from the neighboring planet.” She sighs. “There’s a faction there that’s convinced our orbiting nearby is somehow angering their gods. It’s been that way since my previous three hosts.”_

_Will nods. “Been there a couple of times ourselves.”_

_“Yes, but then you get to fly off, we have to stay and deal with it.” She shakes her head ruefully. “Thank goodness the existing government thinks differently.”_

_Wil shrugs in acknowledgement. He opens the conversation to more serious notes. “Thank you, by the way, for letting us dock here for a few days.”_

_Bri’an plays with the stem of her glass. “Is the war really getting that bad?”_

_Will raises an eyebrow._

_“Come now, Riker, I’m not blind,” she retorts, though without much heat. “Admiral Beckett said you’d only be here two days, before going to X259K for upgrades. Doesn’t take a linguist to translate.”_

_“Command’s…concerned,” Will says._

_“Worried, you mean.” She puts down her glass. “I would be too, if I were them. The Dominion are getting bolder.”_

_“Have you had any trouble?”_

_Bri’an starts to reply, but the door slides open._

_“Excuse me, Captain,” a green Orion woman says. Her uniform collar is a touch too open in the front. Not enough to risk reprimand, but more than to offer a tantalizing tease of her emerald collar bone._

_Bri’an shifts forward in her chair. “What is it, Shirra?”_

_“There’ a call for Captain Riker.” She flashes an apologetic smile that somehow is still able to come off as flirtatious. “It’s from a Selay named Sakatulk. He’s most insistent that Captain Riker be reached.”_

_Will is halfway up before he checks himself. “Did he say why?”_

_“No, sir. Only that is was urgent.”_

_Will resists the urge to run to the nearest communication device. He_ knew _Jean-Luc’s streak of good behavior was too good to last. But, instead for embarrassing himself by leaving in such a rushed manner, Will sits back down fully and looks to Bri’an. “Captain, if I may?”_

_They did, after all, just get to discussing the Dominion._

_But Bri’an waves him out with a half-smile. “Out, Riker. You can take it on the left corner unit.”_

_“Thank you.” Will pushes off his chair and immediately heads out of the waiting room. A few heads turn to watch him as he nears the com center at the left. He ignores them, seeing the light flashing with Sakatulk’s waiting call._

_He answers._

_The screen is filled with the Selay’s worried face. “Captain.”_

_“Sakatulk.” Will grips his hands behind his back. “What’s happened?”_

_“I’m afraid it’sss Jean-Luc.”_

_As Will thought. He goes to ask what the boy’s done, but Sakatulk steamrolls over him._

_“He wasss punished unfairly for a misdemeanor a companion had caused.” Sakatulk’s eyes narrow at the end of his pronouncement._

_It takes Will a second to comprehend. When he does, his grip on his wrist tightens. “Explain.”_

_“I allowed Jean-Luc and Wesley to observe the hovercourt area. A few minutesss later, young Wesley run up to me and begged me to come help.” Sakatulk looks away for a second, before fixing his gaze firmly back on Will. “When I arrived at the back office, a Lieutenant Matthews wasss caning Jean-Luc. I put a stop to it immediately, but I’m afraid the damage hasss already been done.”_

_Has it ever!_

_First things first though. “Has Matthews been detained?”_

_“Not that I know of, sssir.” Sakatulk’s tongue flicks out. “I wasss focused on Jean-Luc. I did tell Matthews you would be dealing with him later, sssir.”_

_Oh, he’ll be doing more than that, if Will has his way about things._

_“And Jean-Luc? Is he all right?” A pit of worry gnaws at Will’s gut._

_“He’s barricaded himself in your quartersss.”_

_Will’s worry turns flat into fear. “Has he been checked by medical?”_

_Sakatulk shakes his head. “No. But I judged Jean-Luc to be well enough on our walk to your quartersss. Asss you know, my species has thermal vision. Hisss body showed pain, but nothing that warranted immediate medical attention. I thought it best to call you first, sssir.”_

_A bit of Will’s fear leaves. “Very good. I’ll handle things from here.”_

_“Of course, sssir.” Sakatulk hesitates. “Captain, I’m sorry thisss happened.”_

_“No need for that. You aren’t the one at fault,” Will says. “Thank you for contacting me so quickly.”_

_Sakatulk nods, and then the screen goes back to its normal functions of displaying relays._

0/0/0/0/0

 

Somehow, unfair as it is, Will wishes it was Jean-Luc acting out.

It’s not right, to want that. Jean-Luc’s a good kid. Will shouldn’t want him to misbehave. But…

Then, he’d know what to do.

How to react.

What to say.

But this?

Will’s still battling himself on what to do.

Which does not, unfortunately, include punching one Lieutenant Matthews squarely in the face.

But, Will can indulge in the illusion he might get away with just that.

It would certainly help his nerves settle – make him feel as if he’d done something to balance the scales.

Instead, he’s got to file a complaint – however strongly worded it is – and then wait to for Captain Bri’an to decide punishment – if there will be any, that is. Bri’an could very well decide Matthews was in his rights.

Will’s teeth grind together.

Matthews was certainly _not_ in the right.

That much is crystal clear.

Spanking is one thing, but caning? Caning is a _whole_ different ballgame. Can a spanking be taken too far? Of course, but not the way a caning can. A caning leaves marks, almost always, and if you’re not careful broken bones. Riker’s never endorsed the harsh form of punishment.

Ever.

It reminds him too much of –

A door sliding open distracts Will from his darkening thoughts. He glances over and sits up abruptly. “Jean-Luc!”

The boy wavers at the doorway, a pained pinch on his face. “Number One.”

Will gets up. “How are you feeling.”

Jean-Luc locks his shoulders, but his gaze stays on the floor. “I’m fine.”

Sometimes, it’s hard to know how to treat Jean-Luc. One moment, he’ll act like the fifty-year-old version he was and the next, he’ll be twelve years old. And when Will goes to confront the younger version, the older one emerges to make it embarrassing for them both.  

“I didn’t think you’d be up just yet,” Will says instead. Which is true enough. It’s only been an hour.

Jean-Luc looks up and frowns. “I don’t see the advantage of sulking in my room, Will. It was only a caning.”

Will bites back his immediate response. “Are you able to come to sickbay with me? Or should I have them come here?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows which Jean-Luc will choose.

Because when does the boy ever pick the easy route for himself?

“There’s no need to inconvenience Sickbay,” Jean-Luc says. “I can go to them.”

Will gestures to the door. “Let’s not keep them waiting then.”

“Now?”

“You’d rather wait til you’ve stiffened enough to not walk?”

He doesn’t mention that he can already tell Jean-Luc’s sore.

Jean-Luc’s cheeks flush pink. In a shift, jerky move he’s headed towards the door. Will follows him. Jean-Luc pauses at the door. His eyebrows come down into a frown.

“You needn’t come, Will. I’ll have the nurse pass on the report to you.”

Will battles with himself. On the one hand, this might let Jean-Luc feel as if he’s got some sense of control back. On the other…

“I’m coming,” he says.

Jean-Luc looks as if he’s battling himself too. But he only nods and stiffly walks out their quarters. Will follows a few feet behind. He makes sure he keeps back, so as not to draw Jean-Luc’s attention to how slowly he’s walking – no doubt to compensate for the pain.

Two ensigns pass them in the hall. One glances back at Jean-Luc, an excited look in his eyes, but Will only has to raise an eyebrow to make the ensign move on without talking to the young boy. The last thing Jean-Luc needs right now is some awestruck ensign talking to him like a love-sick puppy.

They enter the turbolift.

“Deck 7,” Will says.

The machine jolts up.

The entire ride is uncomfortably tense and silent, with Jean-Luc making it a point to not look at Will. Which, in light of things, is understandable, if not a little inconvenient. Will lets it slide though. There’ll be time enough to talk later.

At last, they make it to Sickbay.

Where things breakdown almost immediately.

“Jean-Luc!” a voice yelps. Wesley bounces off the bed he’d been sitting on.

Of course, Beverly’s there, along with Wesley. She’s most likely camped out there with the intent of administering to Jean-Luc herself. Knowing Beverly as he does, Will’s sure she’d have waited all night and into the next day, just to get her chance to comfort Jean-Luc.

“Jean-Luc,” Beverly says at much more sedated tone than her son. “Come on, let’s get you taken care of.”

Jean-Luc hesitates a few seconds, eyes darting around as if searching for another staff member to examine him. But Beverly’s too good at her job. She’s made sure the medical crew gives her this task. Thus, there’s no escape route for Jean-Luc to take, other than to rudely refuse her, and that’s something Jean-Luc can never do – especially to Beverly.

“Jean-Luc,” Beverly prompts.

Jean-Luc marches over to a bed and sits himself on it. “If you would, doctor.”

Will doesn’t miss the tightening of lips or the wince.

Beverly glances at him, but says nothing either.

Wesley, apparently, has no such qualms. “Are you okay, Jean-Luc?”

Jean-Luc sends Wesley a weathering glare. “Of course, Mr. Crusher.”

Oh boy. There’s definitely some unresolved hurt feelings here. Will looks at Beverly, but she minutely shakes her head. Best to let the boys handle it themselves.

Wesley’s face falls at the acidic title. “Oh…Well, Mom will fix it.”

Said Mom decides to speak before Jean-Luc can. “Speaking of which, Jean-Luc, would you mind laying on your stomach for me?”

Jean-Luc’s eyes widen a bit, even as his cheeks turn pink again.

“It’s only so I can fix this quicker,” Beverly reassures him. “Wesley, why don’t you go get me my datapad? It’s in the office.”

Which is conveniently in the far corner, and out of eyesight.

Will could kiss Beverly for her discretion.

“But Mom –” Wesley tries.

“Now, Wesley,” Beverly orders, half turning to her son. Wesley swallows and scurries away to hide in the office until his mother says otherwise. Beverly turns back to Jean-Luc with a smile. “Now then, let’s see what we can do.”

With a deepening blush, Jean-Luc flips onto his stomach. Will catches sight of his hands fisting the pillow – whether from embarrassment or pain, Will’s not sure. He thinks both. Beverly says nothing. She opens her tricorder and runs a scan up and down Jean-Luc’s body, pausing a few seconds extra at his bottom and upper thighs.

Her face turns stormy as her tricorder beeps out its findings. “Definitely some heavy bruising.”

She lays a hand on Jean-Luc’s left shoulder. The boy flinches. Beverly, professional that she is, doesn’t mention it, though her gaze does harden further. “It’s an easy fix. Let me just get the regenerator set up.”

She motions for Will to follow her.

He does, but not without a backward glance at Jean-Luc. The boy looks miserable, lying there on the bed, trying to not cry.

Beverly starts to set up the regenerator machine. While doing so, she gives him the full medical diagnosis. “Multiple contusions to the upper thighs and glutinous maximus.”

Were it any other situation, Will might find the medical term for butt amusing. But not here. Here it means Beverly is angry enough that she’s falling back to her medical training.

“How bad?” he asks, because if he’s going to convince Captain Bri’an to discipline Matthews, he best have all the information at hand.

“Bad enough his right femur has a hairline fracture.”

Will stiffens.

Matthews canned Jean-Luc hard enough to break bone. No matter it’s a small break, it’s broken nonetheless.

How Jean-Luc walked on that leg without screaming in pain, Will might never know. Sheer stubborn pride, no doubt. 

Captain Bri’an had better find this man guilty.

“Forward this to Captain Bri’an will you?” he asks Beverly. “I sent her a complaint against the lieutenant.”

Beverly gives a short, brisk nod, typing away at her display. She heads back to Jean-Luc.

“The regenerator is ready, Jean-Luc,” she tells him.

The boy gives a tiny sigh and struggles off the bed. As his knees buckle just a tad, Will latches onto his right arm. Wide eyes jerk up to meet his. He gives Jean-Luc a tightlipped smile, and let’s go. Jean-Luc flashes a grateful look his way, before heading over to the regenerator table.

In short order, Jean-Luc is lying under the bridge-like machine. Beverly types in a few commands, and the machine slowly lowers to a centimeter above Jean-Luc’s lower back. It entirely covers the affected areas. From Jean-Luc’s sucked in breath and tightly fisted hands, it’s not a painless process. Even if it is a quick one.

Will finds he’s holding his own breath as the machine finishes.

Jean-Luc waits long enough for Beverly to open the machine before he’s hopped off the bed and straightened his shirt. Will’s lips curl up at the familiar quirk. Jean-Luc never did like wrinkles, even as a grown man.

“That should do it,” Beverly says, running her tricorder over Jean-Luc again. “Any lingering pain?”

“No, doctor. Thank you.” Jean-Luc turns to him. “May I return to our quarters, Number One?”

It’s an obvious cry for escape.

One Will let’s happen. “Sure, let’s go. Thank you, again, Doctor Crusher.”

She nods grimly as they leave.

The trip back is, again, silent and tense.

Will says nothing until they’re inside their quarters and the door’s shut.

“Jean-Luc,” he starts.

“Number One, I appreciate your intension,” Jean-Luc interrupts. “But they’re not necessary. It was a misunderstanding that was quickly righted, and Doctor Crusher has fixed any lingering effects.”

Well, it’s that just all succinctly put?

Will smells panicked avoidance maneuver. He’s not allowing it. “What Matthews did was wrong, Jean-Luc.”

“Of course, it was,” Jean-Luc says, face paling. “But it’s in the past, Will. We shouldn’t –”

“Jean-Luc, stop,” Will half barks out. He bites his tongue a bit before he continues, especially upon seeing Jean-Luc take a step back from him. By the Prophets, Matthews’ set them back weeks, if not months! “Jean-Luc…”

His words melt in his mouth.

Jean-Luc’s standing as if braced for some sort of attack. Is that how he sees all this, as an attack? Will backpedals a bit in his mind. Picard hated talking about his fears. In fact, Will can’t remember a one time they ever really went into Picard’s misgivings. Oh, they went into details about a mission, but never anything about how Picard felt if something turned out wrong.

This probably hasn’t changed.

Will takes a breath. “I was thinking of making fresh gumbo stir-fry this afternoon.”

Jean-Luc blinks, and his posture loosens a little. “Stir-fry?”

Will nods. “I was hoping you’d want to help me with it.”

Jean-Luc bites his lower lip. “I…I suppose…”

“We don’t have to talk about anything, just fry,” Will puts in.

Jean-Luc stares at him. “Just fry?”

“Just fry.” Will gives him a lopsided smile and a shrug. “We’ve not had a chance to hang out for a couple days.”

Relief pools in Jean-Luc’s eyes. He shifts his weight to one foot, then the other. “I’ve never made stir-fry before.”

Will slaps a hand against his heart. “A sin against mankind! We must right this wrong, Jean-Luc. At once.”

Jean-Luc raises an eyebrow. “I highly doubt other cultures are judging us simply on our stir-frying abilities.”

Will winks. “You never know.”

Jean-Luc snorts and rolls his eyes. “Really, Number One, you’re acting ridiculous.”

“Come on,” Will gestures. “Let’s see what the stalls have on fresh produce.”

Jean-Luc sighs, but it’s more a resigned happy sound than anything else. “Very well, Will.”

And if Will takes a silent ‘thank you’ from the look Jean-Luc gives him as they shop?

Well, that’s his prerogative, isn’t it?


	12. Louder Than Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: slight talk of unjust caning and a bullying flashback in this.

Jean-Luc sets up the computer screen and waits for Robert to call. His left hand grips his right wrist hard as nerves begin to rise again. Jean-Luc takes a deep breath. He’s not talked to Robert for a very long time. He’d thought…back when he’d been recuperating from the Borg, he’d hoped…Jean-Luc sighs.

It feels like forever ago, and yesterday that he’s visited his childhood home.

Robert had been, well, Robert, but there’d been a sense that bridges were being mended.

Jean-Luc plays with a string on his shirt.

That’d changed quickly enough.

It always did, with Robert.

Jean-Luc never could understand the resentment and hatred his older brother seemed to hold for him.

Even back when Jean-Luc was truly twelve, Robert had seemed to go out of his way to intimidate his younger brother.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_The blow, when it lands, comes out of nowhere. At least, that’s how it feels to Jean-Luc. One moment, he’s seated on a thick log near the vineyards, reading a Vulcan essay on transwarp technology. Asil really does have the most interesting insight into the topic that Jean-Luc’s ever seen. Who else would’ve thought to –_

_Suddenly, everything is pain, pain, pain!_

_He dimly hears someone cry out over the high-pitched ringing in his ears. His vision goes black for a second._

_When he can see again, the grass is inches from his face and the back of his head stings. Jean-Luc sucks in a hissed breath, shakily trying to raise himself on trembling arms. His vision blurs as the pain spikes. When it returns a pair of dusty boots has come into his line of sight._

_He blinks, and ignores his aching head at glance up. “R-Robert?”_

_Robert scowls down at him, though the stick in his right hand is all Jean-Luc really cares to take notice of._

_“You just had to be smart, didn’t you?” Robert more states than asks._

_“Wh-what?” Jean-Luc shakes his head, an instantly regrets it when his stomach clenches. Acidic bile starts to creep up his throat. He roughly swallows it down. “Wh-what are you –”_

_“Oh, shut up,” Robert says. There an ugly fire in his eyes that’s more and more common these days._

_Jean-Luc refuses to acknowledge the fear that begins to churn as his brother glares down at him. “But –”_

_“I said, shut up!” Robert shouts, taking a threatening step forward._

_Jean-Luc cringes back against the log, the rough bark digging into his back. He nods frantically to appease his brother, though he’s no idea what he’s done this time. He winces at pain that flares in his head. With tentative fingers, he probes the back of his head, hissing when he brushes against a sizeable goose egg. His eyes widen._

_Robert’s never gone this far before._

_A few smacks here and there, yes, but never…this._

_He eyes his older brother with renewed fear._

_Robert snorts. “You just had to show-off last night, didn’t you?”_

_Jean-Luc swallows._

_“Didn’t you?!” Robert shouts, shaking the stick in his hand at Jean-Luc._

_“I-I didn’t m-mean to,” Jean-Luc stammers, eyes never leaving the stick._

_“Of course not,” Robert rolls his eyes. “You never do. Just comes naturally to you, I suppose. What with how Father spoils you.”_

_“Father doesn’t spoil me!”_

_“Yes, he does!” Robert growls. “Why else would he be considering your idea about Starfleet? You know he’s dreamed of having you help run the vineyard.”_

_“But I don’t want –”_

_“It’s always about what you want, isn’t it?” Robert interrupts. “Jean-Luc wants new boots, so we’ll skip the annual vineyard contest.”_

_“That’s not true!” Jean-Luc dares to interrupt as well. He flinches back as Robert narrows his eyes, but he won’t stop there. “You know I needed those new shoes. Mine were getting too small. And – ”_

_“What, couldn’t handle a few pinched toes? You know how important that wine contest is to Father.”_

_“I didn’t ask him to –”_

_“No, you just whined and complained about your shoes until Father gave in.”_

_“I did not!” Jean-Luc snarls. He’d mentioned it one time – one time! – and that was it. How was he to know his Father would be willing to give up their spot in the contest to buy him new shoes?_

_“Shut. Up.” Robert spits out. “As if you haven’t noticed. You can never do anything wrong. Jean-Luc gets better grades. Jean-Luc has more friends. Jean-Luc, Jean-Luc, Jean-Luc!”_

_Robert takes another swing and Jean-Luc just barely ducks in time. He scooches back as his brother closes in. Jean-Luc hates this! Why has Robert changed all of a sudden? Why does Robert hurt him? Jean-Luc’s not doing anything._

_“P-Please, Robert, I didn’t mean it. I –”_

_But it doesn’t matter._

_Later, when Robert disappears into the fields, Jean-Luc will tell his mother he fell out of a tree. She’ll laugh and say something about ‘boys’ as she uses a dermal regenerator to repair his many bruises. Jean-Luc will grin sheepishly, because he somehow can’t seem to muster the strength to tell her that he thought Robert was going to kill him today._

0/0/0/0/0

 

Jean-Luc shivers at the memory. No, he and Robert haven’t gotten along in a very, very long time. Oh, that’s not to say they never did, but the times that they had – where Robert hugged away his tears and checked his closet for Klingon razor beasts – well, those are hazy memories, at best. The crueler times are much more poignant.

Which is something Jean-Luc knows is just the human mind’s default.

Or maybe it’s just _his_ mind that’s so fixated on the bad?

It’s not something Jean-Luc’s going to broadcast by asking Deanna.

It’s not that important anyway.

That’s the past, and Robert…

Jean-Luc blinks and realizes the computer is chirping at him. He pales when he sees its been trying to get his attention for a full minute. Wonderful, he’s made Robert wait. This will not endear his elder brother to him at all.

He presses the screen on, regardless, and pastes on a smile. “Robert.”

The pinched face of his brother sours even more as his brother frowns. “I thought we agreed to call at 1200. Did I get the time wrong?”

“I…” Jean-Luc shakes his head. “No. I apologize. I was thinking. I didn’t notice –”

“Too busy with your head in the clouds.” Robert sighs. “I see nothing has changed. You always were distracted at this age.”

Jean-Luc bites down on the hot retort that almost escapes him. Instead, he opts for the easy: “How are you?”

“Fine.” Robert glances down at something “I see you’ve gotten in trouble twice already.”

Jean-Luc forgets how to breath for a few seconds. Robert is getting reports on him? Will…no, _Riker_ is reporting on him to Robert? About his punishments? Jean-Luc can feel his cheeks warming as embarrassment and shame floods him. Bad enough it happens, now he’s going to have to hear about his failings again from Robert.

“It was only once,” he tells his brother. “The other was a mistake.”

“Yes, I saw that.” Robert looks as if he’s eating a rotten grape off the vines. “Are you…did the doctor repair your leg?”

“Yes.”

“And the lieutenant has been reprimanded, I see.”

Jean-Luc remembers Will informing him on that little piece of information.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_Riker tunes his saxophone, the somewhat sour notes making Jean-Luc smile._

_“I had a meeting with Captain Bri’an this afternoon,” Riker mentions casually._

_Jean-Luc pulls back a little at the out of place comment. “Indeed? Was it…productive?”_

_Riker eyes him in a weird way. “Yes.”_

_“I see. Good.” Jean-Luc nods and goes back to tuning his own instrument, the violin. For a few seconds its silent, then:_

_“It was about Lieutenant Matthews,” Riker says._

_Jean-Luc’s fingers freeze before he starts fiddling with his violin’s strings again. Anything to keep his mind busy, and off of those memories. “I see.”_

_“He’s been demoted, and taken off caretaker duty indefinitely.” Riker seems to be waiting for something. What that is, Jean-Luc doesn’t know. Riker moves his chair closer, and leans in. “He’s also going to mandatory anger management classes for a month. They’ll reevaluate him after that, and see if he’s ready to be put back on duty.”_

_“They…” Jean-Luc slides a finger up one string. “They removed him from duty?”_

_“Of course. Jean-Luc, what he did was dangerous. He broke your leg.”_

_“Number One,” Jean-Luc starts, but doesn’t get any further._

_“If one of your crew did that to a child, would you consider them fit for duty?”_

_Jean-Luc fidgets, but shakes his head. “No.”_

_“Then why should Captain Bri’an be any different?”_

_“She shouldn’t make special exceptions with me.”_

_Riker stiffens. “Who told you that?”_

_Jean-Luc tunes another string on his violin, and shrugs._

_Riker lays a hand over his, stopping his tuning. “Jean-Luc, who?”_

_Jean-Luc takes a breath and looks Riker straight in the eye. “No one.”_

_“Then why –”_

_“Because it’s obvious!” Jean-Luc bites his lip. “It’s obvious, Will. The new upgrades for the children facilities on_ Enterprise _only prove it.”_

_Riker squeezes his arm. “Jean-Luc, punishing Matthews is not showing favoritism.”_

_Jean-Luc nods, even as he takes notice that Riker makes no mention of how the new Rec Center isn’t favoritism. Just as well. Jean-Luc wouldn’t have believed it._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

“Yes,” Jean-Luc replies. “The lieutenant was reprimanded.”

“Good.”

Jean-Luc blinks. Robert thought that was good? He’d been upset at what happened? But…why?

“I think it’d be best if you came home,” Robert then says.

Jean-Luc’s world crashes to a halt, and then speeds up to warp 9. “What? Why? I’m contributing on the _Enterprise_.”

Robert raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I am,” Jean-Luc insists. The Teen Rec Center is only one thing. Now that he knows they’re going to Deep Space 9, he’s going to do as much research as he can on the Dominion. Come up with maneuvers and options, should they ever run into them.

“A warzone is hardly the place for you, Jean-Luc.” Robert glances down again at something. “Our Father certainly wouldn’t have wanted you out there.”

“Our Father supported my carrier in Starfleet.”

“But you’re not _in_ Starfleet anymore, are you?” Robert smirks a bit. “You’re twelve.”

“Robert, I…” Jean-Luc scrambles to find anything to convince his brother. He finds nothing. Straightening his shoulders, he glares at the screen. “I’m staying.”

“You really don’t have a say. I’m your legal parent now, and I say it’s too dangerous.”

“You were fine with it last week.”

“That was before you were being sent out into Dominion space!” Robert shouts. For a minute, they both glare at each other from across the screens.

“It’s not Dominion space,” Jean-Luc says at last.

“Not yet, you mean.”

“It’s not going to ever be theirs. Deep Space 9 will make sure of that.” Jean-Luc folds his hands on the desk. “I can do more good here, Robert. I’m still a good tactical officer. I can study the Dominion attacks and give relevant data.”

Robert scowls. “You can just as well do that from Earth.”

“But it’ll take weeks to get to them from Earth.”

Robert’s scowl deepens. “You must truly hate your home, to argue to strenuously against coming back.”

Jean-Luc shoves aside the hurt that comment ignites. “I do not.”

“You always thought yourself better than us,” Robert says. “We’re just vineyard farmers. Nothing so grand as a Starship captain.”

“Robert –”

“Are you so selfish that you’d continue to force yourself onto Riker, just so you can keep being in space?” Robert shakes his head. “This isn’t about being useful, Jean-Luc. This is about you needing attention.”

“That’s not true!” Jean-Luc snaps out.

“Isn’t it?”

Jean-Luc doesn’t answer that. Robert isn’t really looking for an answer anyway. He never does. He just degrades you, and then show you how many ways you went wrong, and how to improve yourself.

“I’m not coming back,” Jean-Luc says.

“And if I insist on it?”

“I’ll get myself emancipated.”

“At twelve?”

“I will.”

Robert stares at him for a long time.

“If the situation changes, gets more dangerous, you will be coming home,” Robert says finally.

Jean-Luc nods, even though he doesn’t agree. “Agreed…thank you.”

Robert’s face does something twitchy. “I’ll call again in a week.”

And then the screen is black. Jean-Luc stares at it. Is he being selfish? Perhaps it _would_ be better if he went back to Earth. Jean-Luc shudders. He doesn’t want to be under Robert’s control again. But is it fair to keep foisting himself on Riker? Will’s certainly never given any indication he minds it, but…Jean-Luc hugs himself. Maybe…

He shakes his head.

This happens every time he talks to Robert. His older brother has always known exactly what to say to make Jean-Luc doubt himself. It’s a trait that existed since they were children. He can’t let Robert in like this, no matter how well intentioned he is this time. If and when the situation gets worse, Jean-Luc will leave the _Enterprise_ willingly. Until then, he’s best served to stay.

No one knows this ship and crew like he does.

And that makes him still useful to Riker.

That makes it worth staying.


	13. Gridlock

The stars are stationary outside the port window. It’s an unusual sight for Will. He’s used to the constant movement of the _Enterprise_ ; stars streaming pass with the hum of the engines under his feet. He almost feels lopsided on this station, where everything stays in orbit and comes back around like clockwork. Will mentally shakes himself. He came here for a purpose. With that in mind, he looks over the large room and finds Deanna sitting at a table in the far left corner.

He makes his way over, weaving around and through the other people eating and talking here. The room is much like Ten Forward; a place for adults to come and mingle, relax. Only this place is much, much bigger. Will glances at all the different races congregating in several groups. This, this is why the Federation can’t bow to the Dominion. This acceptance of races means so much, which is why every planet is determined to help keep the Dominion back – well, almost everyone, the Cardassians still seem to delusional.

The Dominion would obliterate all that, if they won.

Of that, Will has no doubt.

“Do you plan on standing there long?” Deanna’s voice breaks into his thoughts.

Will blinks. He’s somehow arrived at her table without realizing it. He chuckles and sits down. “Sorry, lost in thought. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I know you’d plans with Worf.”

She shrugs, and Will notices the large bowl of chocolate ice-cream in front of her.

He frowns. “Bad day?”

“Hectic.” She smiles and waves her spoon at him. “Now, tell me what’s so wrong that you insisted you meet me during me lunch break. I take it, it’s Jean-Luc? Did you have to spank him again?”

“No.”

“Then it can’t be all that bad,” she says.

“I just don’t know, Deanna.” Will sighs, and leans his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his folded hands. He ignores how prayer-like the pose is. If he believed in any god, he’d be praying to them right now. He sighs again. “I’m at my wits end.”

Deanna scoops a bit of chocolate ice-cream onto her spoon. “How so?”

“You know how he had that call with his brother, Robert?”

“Yes.”

“I’m thinking it didn’t go so well.”

She indicates him to keep talking, her mouth full of ice-cream.

“He keeps asking if I need him to do anything, or if he can contribute – his words, not mine – to the overall plans for the Dominion.”

 

0/0/0/0/0

_“Number One?” a small voice asks from the doorway._

_Will glances up from the report on the Enterprise’s new upgrades. Jean-Luc’s standing by the entryway like some forlorn puppy waiting to be kicked. Will slowly puts down his pad, and gives the boy his full attention. Whatever has Jean-Luc coming in to see him, it’s got the kid more nervous than Will’s ever seen him._

_“Jean-Luc? Is everything all right?”_

_“Yes. I…” Jean-Luc scuffs the carpet a bit with the toe of his boot, before he suddenly straightens his shoulders and looks Will dead in the eye. “I want to help with attack maneuvers and strategies against the Dominion Fleets.”_

_Will’s mind sort of fritzes out for a few seconds. When he comes back to himself – and, yes, he checked the computer logs, he wasn’t ‘out’ for more than four seconds – Jean-Luc’s shoulders are hunched in more._

_“I’ve got valuable insights that the Federation could utilize,” Jean-Luc says, although it somehow sounds like he’s trying to convince Will of this fact, instead of stating it._

_“I know that, Jean-Luc, but right now we don’t know enough about the Dominion to really have any idea how to specialize our defenses.”_

_“But then, I could look over the relevant data.”_

_Will feels his eyebrows start to lower, and he struggles to keep his emotions in check. Something’s -  or someone – has made Jean-Luc self-conscious again, and he’s not sure he’s going to like it when he finds out who that is. His mind treacherously reminds him that Jean-Luc talked with his brother yesterday._

_“I thought you were going to go to the hoverboard court today with Guinan and Wesley,” Will says._

_Jean-Luc shakes his head. “This is more important.”_

_Now Will’s sure something happened during that call. Being nervous about going back to the Play Area would be understandable – poor kid’s probably both embarrassed and afraid – but to avoid it because it’s not ‘important’? That’s a new one. Will’s had to fight Jean-Luc to stop reading so much, but never to stop working._

_Something is definitely up._

_“I see.” Will chews the inside of his lip._

_“I’d like to contribute to this War, Number One.” Jean-Luc’s eyes are a bit misty. “I can’t laze about like a child.”_

_“You are a child.”_

_“Only in body. In mind, I am much the same man. It behooves me to act like it.”_

_Will does frown now. “Jean-Luc, what’s prompted this?”_

_“Nothing. I’ve been meaning to ask you for several days now.” Jean-Luc makes a valiant effort to seem truthful – it comes off as if he bit something sour. “Especially after Starfleet’s indulgence of the new Teen Center and extra shore leave.”_

_Has someone been giving Jean-Luc grief about that?_

_Will can’t imagine who would._

_“Jean-Luc,” he tries._

_“I was top of my class in defensive maneuvers,” Jean-Luc interrupts._

_Will takes a deep breath. Something is going on, but it won’t do to push. “I’ll think about it.”_

_Jean-Luc’s face crumples into disappointment, but he doesn’t say anything._

_Which only serves to make Will more worried._

_Just what is going on here?_

0/0/0/0/0

 

“And you think his call with Robert brought this on?” Deanna asks, her forehead furrowing.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He told me that his brother and he have always been a bit…antagonistic towards each other. They don’t get along. I picked up that Robert’s always been a bit jealous, and that might’ve led to some bullying.” Will takes a breath in, holds it, and lets it out. “Nothing I can confirm, of course, but it’s there in-between the lines.”

“So, you’re thinking Robert said something to Jean-Luc to make him question his usefulness on the _Enterprise_ , or to you.”

“That about sums it up.”

“And the situation with Liuetenant Matthews certainly can’t have helped with that,” Deanna adds thoughtfully, most likely to herself, as it’s a mumble.

“Yeah,” Will answers anyway. “Jean-Luc hasn’t taken that well either.”

“How so?”

“You should’ve seen him, Deanna.” Will leans heaver on her elbows. “He didn’t want to talk about the caning. And that’s not even getting into how he _flinches_ now, if I ever raise my voice above a certain octave. I don’t even have to be yelling, just talking loud and against whatever he wants to do.”

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_Violins are screeching out again, when Will steps into their quarters. The shrill sounds drill into his already tired head, and magnify the headache that’s built over the last few hours. Will squeezes his eyes shut. Now, the violins are slapping his throbbing ears. His hands involuntarily come up and begin to rub his temples._

_“Computer, pause!”_

_Blessed silence._

_Except for the slight shuffle of shoes against the carpet._

_Will opens his eyes to just catch sight of a heel disappearing into Jean-Luc’s room. He sighs. “Jean-Luc? I thought we agreed to keep the music at a more tolerable level.”_

_“I…” a distinct pause. “I apologize, I…I forgot.”_

_Will crosses over to the doorway. “This makes the fourth times you’ve forgotten. I think it’s time we…”_

_Will trails off at the sight of the boy._

_Jean-Luc’s by the far right corner table. His face has gone sheet white, and his hands are shaking by his side._

_“Jean-Luc? Is everything all right?” Will takes a cautious step forward._

_Jean-Luc flinches back, eyes never leaving Will. “Yes, of course. I apologize. It was unintentional. Should you wish to restrict my usage of the computer, I will not disagree.”_

_Well, that’s…nicely worded._

_Will tilts his head to the side, studying Jean-Luc. He was going to restrict the boy’s access, four times is more than enough grace period._

_“What’s wrong, Jean-Luc? And don’t say ‘nothing’, that’s obviously a lie.”_

_Jean-Luc pales and backs up into the table._

_Will frowns._

_“I’m not lying!” the boy insists. “I did forget!”_

0/0/0/0/0

 

“Have you tried talking to him about all this?”

The slight censure in her tone irks Will. He scowls at her. “Of course.”

Her eyebrow raises.

He looks away for a second. “I didn’t do it right away, we fried some vegetables, but I did try later on.”

“Will,” she admonishes, swallowing her ice-cream and ladling another onto her spoon. “You should’ve spoken to him right after, if his distress was as obvious as you say.”

“Obvious?” Will snorts. “The Vulcan at the vegetable stand took me aside and mentioned that my _son_ seemed to be exhibiting signs of extreme distress. He said he would be willing to teach me a few meditations we could do together to help. A Vulcan, Deanna! If a Vulcan is saying something, then yes, I think it’s pretty obvious.”

Deanna hums in agreement. “So, why haven’t you talked to him?”

“I don’t know where to begin,” Will snaps. He cringes a second later. “Sorry.”

Deanna smiles the apology away. “You’re stressed, it’s understandable. But do you think you can vocalize why you’re having trouble talking to Jean-Luc. Is it him or you, or both?”

“Both?” Will says. “He doesn’t want to talk about any of this, and I can’t seem to force myself to push the issue. But, it’s getting worse, I _can_ tell that.”

Deanna scrapes the last few dregs of melted chocolate from her bowl. “Do you want to schedule another session together with me?”

“Yes.” Will sighs. “But Jean-Luc is adamant he doesn’t want that.”

“I see. That does present a problem.” Deanna stares into her empty bowl with such an intensity that Will almost expects more ice-cream to pop into existence from her sheer force of will power. “Perhaps you could, instead, schedule a holodeck program for you both.”

Will mentally churns this around. “Maybe…but what kind of program? Jean-Luc’s been pretty upset with any adolescent ones I’ve picked…well, besides the Bourne series.”

Deanna smirks. “I think you might have your answer there.”

“Spy thrillers?”

“Guinan used to regal me with stories about the adventures the Captain would drag her on. She thought them…quaint.”

Will snorts. That _does_ sound like the old Guinan. “So, spy thrillers. Any ideas?”

“Sherlock Holmes?”

Will cringes at the thought of dressing up in those antiqued suits and hats.

Deanna laughs softly. “Maybe something a bit more modern then. Have you tried the variation on Sherlock Holmes? The ones based in the twenty-first century? I’m told it was quite the fad when it launched.”

“I’ve never heard of those. Are they any good?”

Deanna shrugs. “I’ve only ever heard good things about it. Why not try a session, and go from there?”

Will grins. “That just might work.”

Deanna chuckles. “I do, occasionally, have good ideas.”

Will gets up. He’ll need to schedule this in soon, if it has any chance of happening. “Thanks, Deanna. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Do that. And Will?”

Will pauses.

“Jean-Luc is of a melancholic temperament. Sometimes, a few nudges are necessary to break the ice.”

Will nods.


	14. Indubitably

The air is hot and sticky. Not even the open window helps. Picard hides a scowl. Of course, the computer would choose to start the program on a day the building’s airing unit is broken. Why not? It’s not like anything else this week has gone right.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_Worf halts their Mok’bara practice with an abrupt “Hold.”_

_Picard freezes halfway through a kick. He slowly lowers his leg, one eyebrow rising. “What’s the matter, Lieutenant?”_

_Worf gives off his ‘I have something that bothers me, but I won’t say it to a superior officer’ vibe._

_Picard stifles a groan. “Lieutenant?”_

_“Perhaps…” Worf looks away for a moment, then focuses all his attention on Picard. “Perhaps, we should stop.”_

_“Stop…? Why?” Picard can’t understand. They’ve only been practicing for half an hour. Never before has Picard stopped for anything less than two hours. He likes to work up a good sweat, make his muscles burn._

_Worf walks to the edge of the mat. “We have practiced enough.”_

_“We’ve only been going for half an hour,” Picard laughs. He stops and steps closer. Worf and he are practicing alone. Perhaps…“Do you have a prior engagement?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then, why stop now? We can surely go for another hour, at least.”_

_“But you are…” Worf cuts himself off._

_Picard stiffens. His eyes narrow. “I am what, Lieutenant?”_

_Worf hesitates again, but then draws himself up. “You are a child. These exercises are not suitable for children.”_

_Not suitable for…anger builds in Picard. “In what way are they not suitable?”_

_“They are…strenuous. Doctor Crusher has told me how brittle human children’s bones are.”_

_“They’re not that brittle!” Picard snaps, and then instantly regrets it. He swallows. “My apologies, I…”_

_Worf nods, as if something is confirmed. “Counselor Troi said this might happen.”_

_“What might happen?”_

_“This is obviously too much stimulus for you,” Worf starts._

_“No,” Picard interrupts, scrambling forward a few steps. He takes a deep breath, tries to calm his racing heart. “No, I’m all right. I can…I can do this. Please, lieutenant.”_

_Please, don’t take this from me too._

_Worf studies him for a long, long moment. Then, shakes his head. “For now, we’ll keep it at half an hour a week. After a month, we’ll return to see how we should proceed.”_

_No._

_Picard can hear his heart beating in his ears._

_Yet another thing that’s changed. Yet one more of his old companions changing, leaving him behind. And there’s nothing Picard can do to stop it. He’s a child. No one listens to a child._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

The tea cup clanks against the side table as Riker sets it down. The older man’s dressed in a ridiculous cream turtleneck and jean pants. Picard’s still not sure what induced Riker to decide on this holosuite game, or to dress in such attire. He knows for a fact Riker doesn’t like spy novels; most of his holosuite programs are either endurance or physical combat.

And then there’s the idea that Picard can somehow portray this Sherlock Holmes.

Even their latest client – Rogerson – can’t seem accept this. He eyes Picard like something distasteful he’s found on his shoe. “ _You_ are Sherlock Holmes?”

The angered disbelief is palpable.

Picard swallows his own anger and fixes his features into an aloof arrogance. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Behind the man, Riker snorts and hides a smile.

Picard ignores him. “Do you, or do you not, want me to find your daughter?”

For that’s the mystery of the program today. A rich gentleman’s daughter –Annie – has been captured by the illusive James Moriarty. It’s Sherlock and Watson’s job to find her before Moriarty kills her. Of course, the client is expecting an adult, so when he sees…well…Picard, well, to say he’s upset is putting it lightly.

Rogerson glares at him. “Of course, I want her found! But not by a –”

“By a child?” Picard interrupts, trying to put as much haughtiness into his tone. Riker stiffens and glances between them. Picard sends him a look, and forges on. “Sir, either you let me find your daughter or you can walk right out that door.”

It’s by far, the rudest thing he’s ever said – especially at this age – but he’s done a bit of research on this version of Sherlock. The man is rude, supercilious, and pompous…but he’s also got a hidden heart of gold. However, at this stage of the game, Sherlock hasn’t shown that trait yet. So, Picard tries to channel that façade as best he can.

Rogerson bristles at the tone, and half rises from his chair. “How dare you –”

“But I do dare!” Picard snaps, some of his frustration at Mr. Worf and the rest of the crew escaping. Picard rises from his own chair. “Now, do you want my aid, or not? I’m busy, and won’t sit around all day, waiting for you do make up your mind.”

Rogerson deflates, collapsing back into his chair. “No. No…please, find her.”

The despair in his voice almost makes Picard break character. No father should ever sound like that. But, Picard stays in character. Sniffs down his nose. “Very well then. You may leave.”

“But –”

“Leave.” Picard walks into the kitchen. “I can handle things now.”

“But I…” Rogerson flounders. Riker steps up to him.

“It’s best to leave him to himself.” Riker offers a half-hearted grin. “I’ll make sure he has all the relevant information.”

“Is he always this rude?”

“Unfortunately,” Riker chuckles.

Picard tries not to let that get to him. It’s only a character he’s playing. Just as Riker is doing as well. Nothing they say really means anything. But…Picard swallows an irrational urge to cry. He’s so tired of all this. He closes his eyes.

No.

He will not cry.

He will not!

“Jean – Sherlock?” Riker says.

Picard stifles his emotions and turns around, eyeing the older man. “It feels…self-destructive to dismiss a witness like that. He might’ve had valuable information about Moriarty or his daughter.”

Riker shrugs. “It’s what the character does.”

Picard sighs and shakes his head. “Should I leave now?  This version constantly goes off by himself.”

Riker frowns. “True…but then, that Sherlock was an –”

“An adult?” Picard finishes, another rush of anger flashing through him. Really, if Riker wanted to play this program, he should’ve thought of that. How does he expect them to go about? Do they do it as themselves, or keep in-character? He shakes his head. “Let me know what you decide. I’m going to go over my notes in my room.”

It’s an utter lie.

He’s going to sneak out and contact his Homeless Network, but Riker won’t approve of that, so…

Riker eyes him, but nods. “I’ll do some internet research.”

Picard retreats to his room, after scooping up some notes. He waits several minutes, listening closely to Riker tapping on the laptop. He gives it several more minutes, before he slips out the window and escapes down the road. The air feels damp and hot still, though the slight breezes help. He stuffs his hands into his pant pockets and fingers the wad of cash. It should be enough to ensure the Network’s aid.

He hopes.

He’s never played this program before, but research says the Homeless Network is a vital part of Sherlock’s procedure.

It takes half an hour, but he finally finds the homeless woman he’s looking for. She’s lounged under the shadow a bridge, occasionally shaking her tin can for spare change. Picard marches up with as much confidence as he can muster.

She eyes him of the corner of her eye. There’s a spark of recognition there. “Spare change, young sir?”

He discretely hands her the wad of cash, adding in a note about the daughter and all the viable information they have so far.

He then quickly walks on.

It won’t do to draw too much attention to her.

He checks the time from a nearby store and cringes. It’s been an hour. By now, Riker will have noticed he’s not there. Half of Picard clenches at the thought of the worry and anger Riker must feel now – mostly the anger. The other half is savagely pleased. He hates playing the child. Hates it. He’s not a child, he never will be. But everyone insists on treating him like one.

 

0/0/0/0/0

_Beverly shows up at their door without warning on morning. Riker is in a meeting with Captain Bri’an, so it’s Picard who answers the door. His eyes widen when he sees who is on the other side._

_“Doctor? I’m afraid Com – Captain Riker isn’t here,” Picard starts to say._

_Beverly yanks Wesley into view and storms into the room. “You two need to talk.”_

_Picard bristles. “Beverly –”_

_“Doctor Crusher,” she corrects, still holding onto Wesley’s arm._

_A pang of hurt flashes through Picard at the sharp correction, followed quickly by anger. How can she dismiss years of friendship like that? Plenty of children call adults by their first name. Good heavens, some call their own parents by their first name! What right does Beverly have to ask this of him? Just because he’s twelve now, doesn’t mean their previous relationship isn’t the same._

_But…maybe it is to her?_

_“Doctor,” Picard says, keeping his tone stiff to hide the anger and hurt. “Your son and I are working things out ourselves. There’s no need to…do this.”_

_He almost says ‘interfere’, but stops himself in time. If Beverly is this adamant about treating him as a child, she just might think he’s being ‘smart’ with her if he uses that word._

_“Jean-Luc, you’re_ not _working things out,” Beverly says, her eyes pitying._

_Picard’s anger rises._

_“Mom, please stop,” Wesley pleads, tugging his arm out of his mother’s grasp. “We’re fine.”_

_“You’re most certainly_ not _fine.” She looks at them both. “I’ll be back in an hour. Talk.”_

_She leaves them standing awkwardly in the room._

_Picard sighs. “She always did have a stubborn streak.”_

_“Tell me about it,” Wesley grumbles, and then flushes when he realizes he said that out loud._

_Picard’s too tired to lecture him though. He waves the boy to the couch. Might as well get this over with. But, once they’re seated, Picard can’t seem to find a way to start the conversation. He searches for a dry, safe topic, but comes up with nothing. And he can’t seem to get himself to come right out and just talk._

_Wesley shifts in his spot. “Jean-Luc…”_

_Picard glances at him._

_The poor boy looks terrified._

_Picard sighs again. “I’m not angry with you, Mr. Crusher.”_

_Wesley winces. “Then why are you calling me that?”_

_“It is your name.”_

_“Last name.” Wesley sends an injured glance his way. “You stopped calling me that weeks ago. But now…Jean-Luc, I didn’t mean to just leave you. I went to get Sakatulk as soon as I saw you hadn’t gotten away. I didn’t know Lieutenant Matthews would…cane you.”_

_Picard refuses to look away. “I know.”_

_“Then why…” Wesley studies his hands. “Then, why won’t you hang out with me anymore?”_

_Picard swallows. He really has been unfair to the boy. It’s not his fault Picard doesn’t want to be around the other children. He should’ve explained that from the start, but, in some perverse way, Picard thinks he_ was _trying to hurt Wesley; get back at him for seemingly up and leaving him to fend for himself._

_Which is not only childish and petty, it’s wrong._

_“I’m sorry, Mr…Wesley. I just haven’t wanted to go to the Court.”_

_“Lieutenant Matthews isn’t there anymore,” Wesley says, his eyes so full of hope._

_No, Picard silently agrees, but all the others who witnessed it are._

_Which, again, is a childish response._

_Picard scowls. Just what is wrong with him? Why can’t he seem to make a rational decision anymore? This is why Beverly’s done this; because Picard isn’t mature enough to resolve this himself. Shame blooms in Picard’s chest._

_He really has fallen far, hasn’t he?_

_“Perhaps…” Picard straightens his back. “Perhaps, we can go there in two days from now? Captain Riker has made plans for us tomorrow. But I am free the day after.”_

_“I’d like that, Jean-Luc,” Wesley grins._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Plus, Riker can’t fault him for keeping in character with this Sherlock.

Picard’s shoulder slump. No…No, Riker can blame him, and would be right to do so. After all the talk, Picard’s just acted out like a spoiled child. He’s been doing it all week. Robert’s right, Picard realizes. He really _is_ a burden to Riker. Even more so when he acts like this.

Riker would be well within him rights to…to…spank him.

Picard swallows as his stomach tightens with fear.

He hates this.

All this.

Riker is nothing like Matthews.

Nothing.

But Picard can’t seem to stop equating them together.

Yet another childish reaction to affix to the rest.

Picard sighs, and starts to head back to 221B Baker Street.

But, suddenly, a shadow falls over Picard. A heavy hand grabs his arm. Without thinking, he whirls around and lands a hard kick at his assailant, just like Mr. Worf’s been teaching him. His attacker immediately lets him go with a stifled yelp. Picard backs away, taking in a man in a suit, hopping on one leg. Picard’s eyes widen when the man’s jacket moves enough to show a gun.

He gulps.

Is this a hitman working for Moriarty?

“Geez, John wasn’t kidding. You’re in a _mood_ today,” the man says, rubbing his leg where Picard hit him. A glare is sent Picard’s way. “You really have him worried, Sherlock.”

Picard studies the man. Obviously, ‘Sherlock’ knows him, but Picard doesn’t. He’ll have to play along until he knows for certain who this is, and how much Sherlock trusts him. “I apologize…”

The man rolls his eyes. “Greg. Would it kill you to remember my name? No, don’t answer that.”

Picard waits.

“So, what set you off this time? John not get you your phone? Not answer you fast enough? We all too stupid for you?”

Picard scowls and folds his arms across his chest. “I am not a child.”

Greg snorts. “Right. Well, John’s fit to hogtie you. Even used a few curse words I’ve not heard of before. Let’s get you back, before he blows another gasket.”

“No.” Picard steps back, fear flashing through him again. He scrambles for an excuse to give Riker more time to calm down. “I’m not done yet.”

Plus, he really doesn’t want to see Riker, if he’s as angry as Greg says.

“Just text him that you found me,” Picard says.

Greg eyes him hard, but does as asked.

“John? Yeah, I got him.” Greg winces at the raised tone. “No. No, he’s fine. Just out and about like usual. Right. Got it.”

Stuffing the phone back into his back pocket, the older man folds his own arms. “Want to let me in on what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Right. Of course.” Greg sighs. “John wants you back now.”

“No.” Picard takes another step back.

Greg’s eyebrows draw together into a frown. “Sherlock….by George, you’re afraid!”

“I am not!” Picard snaps back, folding his arms across his chest, before thinking how defensive that posture looks and unfolding them again. “I am…simply not done investigating yet.”

Greg tilts his head to the side. “You and John get into a row?”

“Of sorts,” Picard allows, because it’s obvious this man wont let him be unless he gives him something to chew on.

“Oh Sherlock.” Greg runs a hand through his grey hair. “What happened? Maybe I can help smooth things over.”

Picard highly doubts that. “We’re fine. There’s no need to get yourself involved.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, mate,” Greg smirks, “but I was involved a five years ago.”

Picard bites back the retort just itching to trip off his tongue.

Greg slowly steps closer and lays a hand on Picard’s shoulder. The older man leans down. “What’s wrong, Sherlock? You know I’ll help where I can.”

Perhaps, it’s the kindness in the man’s eyes, or the way his smile seems so understand and sad. Whatever it is, Picard embarrassingly finds his eyes tearing up. He chokes back a sob, and rips out of the man’s grip.

“There’s nothing wrong. I’m…we’re fine!” Picard wraps his arms around himself, tears blurring his vision.

All of a sudden, strong arms encircle him, gently pulling him close. A hand pushes his head to lie on a broad chest, while the other rubs up and down his back.

“It’s going to be all right, Sherlock,” Greg says softly. “I promise.”

“You…” Picard hiccups a sob. “Y-you shouldn’t p-promise things l-like th-that, Greg.”

Greg stiffens and hugs him tighter. “That bad, huh. What happened, Sherlock? Talk to me.”

“N-nothing. I-I sw-swear!” Picard finds himself clutching Greg’s shirt. “I just…I can’t do anything right!”

The last part is wailed – which only adds to Picard’s embarrassment, which, in turn, only makes him cry harder.

What’s wrong with him?

He’s had worse weeks as an adult and never felt the need to lash out like this.

“Sherlock. Breath.” Greg continues to run his fingers through Picard’s hair and rub his back. “It’ll be all right. This happens to everyone. Even I get days like this.”

“B-but Robert said…” Picard stops himself just in time.

Greg pulls him back a bit and looks into his eyes. “Who is Robert?”

Picard looks away.

Greg uses a knuckle to turn his head back. “Sherlock, who is Robert?”

“My brother,” Picard whispers.

“Brother…right. Brother.” Greg straightens. “And just what did your brother say to you.”

“Nothing. It…it’s not important.” Picard wipes the tears from his eyes and cheeks with the back of his hands. “We need to focus on finding Annie Rogerson.”

“Nice try,” Greg says. “We’re not leaving until we’ve got this sorted out.”

“And if Annie dies in that time?”

Greg raises an eyebrow. “Then you better talk fast, mate.”

“I…” Picard sighs. “Robert’s trying to get em to come home.”

“And this is bad?”

Picard shrugs.

Greg leans down again and catches Picard’s eye. “This is bad?”

“He hates me,” Picard murmurs. “I don’t want to…It took me years to…”

Greg’s eyes harden to flint.

“I want to stay with Ri-John!”

Greg’s gaze softens. “I know, mate. Is that what your row was about? Did John say you should go back?”

“No…but he…he will soon.”

“Did you deduce that?” Greg asks, frowning.

“No…” Picard looks away again. “But…I’ve been…slipping lately. If I can’t…deduce things, John’ll –”

“Stop right there,” Greg interrupts. He nudges Picard chin until Picard looks up at him again. Greg’s eyes are soft and sad. “John’s not like that, Sherlock. He wouldn’t leave you just because you can’t do the things you do.”

“But then…why would he stay?” Picard whispers. If he can’t do grownup things, if he’s really starting to regress into a child again – which Picard is starting to think is actually happening – why would Riker want to keep him? Right now, Picard’s a useful asset. He can use his adult mind to look over charts and defense plans. Take that ability away, and he’s just a burden to Riker and the _Enterprise_.  

“He’d stay because he’s your guardian and he chose to adopt you,” Greg says firmly. “He didn’t want you for your genius, Sherlock. He wanted you for yourself.”

_But what am I without my ‘genius’?_

Greg sighs and tugs on Picard’s shirt. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the station. Maybe you’ll be able to find something in my notes that I missed.” Greg glances down. “We’ll invite John down later.”


	15. Update Status

Oct 10, 2018

So, I promised myself I'd never put my stories on Hiatus, but, things have come up and I'm doing just that. Therefore, I feel you all deserve a heads-up.

The basic rundown is: I'm working through a serious traumatic incident. I'll be starting therapy next week. Am I sure that will help me? No, but all I've tried to do on my own hasn't succeeded either, so I'm willing to try. Because I'm working through this, it's started to bleed into my attempts at writing, which, in turn, is making all my stories WAY darker than I want (by a lot). That's why I've been putting off posting any new chapters. With that in mind, I'm postponing any updates until next year (January). Of course, if I get inspired, I'll update, but I'm giving myself some breathing room to just focus on healing.

I'm sorry. I know how we all feel (myself included) about the dreaded Hiatus sign, but I feel it's necessary.

Please, keep me in your prayers.

I'll see you all in January. :D

~Tam


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